


Dangerous Liaisons

by fanoftheknight



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cops and Criminals, F/M, I'll add tags as I go but be warned that this story is pretty dark, It's definitely DARK - please consider this your last warning!!, Jon Snow definitely knows nothing, The whole 'curse' thing is definitely still in play here..., This is DARK VERY DARK, This story is NOT FLUFFY, Violence, dark themes, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 55,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: Modern day AU.Quiet loner Jorah Mormont comes to the rescue of Daenerys Targaryen in a seedy bar called the Jailhouse and then begins a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Sooner or later, someone is going to end up getting burned...
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 528
Kudos: 305





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm going to warn you now that this story will be pretty dark and angsty in places and so if that's not your cup of tea, I recommend that you don't read any further.
> 
> It'll be dark, violent and pretty grim in places, but this story plays a key part in the 'Cursed AU' series for our favourite characters.
> 
> For those of you who are still reading, buckle in for what will be a pretty bumpy ride...

Daenerys Targaryen checked her appearance in the mirror, rearranging her hair for the fifth time in as many minutes before straightening her pencil skirt.

Grabbing her purse, she checked that she had everything she needed before slipping her leather jacket on and leaving her apartment.

Walking confidently down the street, Daenerys had no need to look around her for any potential dangers. She could look after herself and take down any would-be attacker should they see her as an easy mark on bustling Saturday night in the city.

She walked past numerous different bars and clubs, paying them no heed. There was only one place she was interested in going - a bar called the Jailhouse.

There were dozens of more vibrant bars within a mile of the Jailhouse, but Daenerys had chosen this one for a reason. It was hardly the most high-end of places, but it would suit her needs just fine.

Ignoring the wolf-whistles from a group of drunken young men, Daenerys pushed the door to the Jailhouse bar open, walking inside as several of its patrons turned to look at her.

“You lost, little lady?” A drunken lout leered as he slumped over the bar, his backside barely staying in the stool he sat on.

She ignored him and made her way to the bar.

“What can I get you?” The barman asked as he dried a glass with a cloth.

“Scotch, on the rocks,” she replied, noticing that she’d caught the attention of a bearded man sitting at the far end of the bar. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he looked away and drained the last of his pint of beer before signalling to the barman for a refill.

Passing enough money to cover her drink, Daenerys made herself comfortable on a stool, sipping at her scotch and scrolling through her phone for any new messages. 

All was quiet so far.

“Hey, sweet girl…” the drunken lout slurred as he stumbled toward her, his breath wreaking of booze and nicotine. “Wanna come and sit on my lap? Maybe we can talk about the first thing that comes up.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, fully aware that no one in the Jailhouse felt the need to come to her aid or defend her virtue.

“Hey bitch,” the lout sneered. “I’m talking to you!”

She glanced across to see the bearded man looking in her direction. Their eyes met again but he made no effort to move toward her.

“You asking for a slap?” The drunken man spat as he raised an open hand to her.

She caught the movement of the bearded man out of the corner of her eye as he pulled the drunken letch away from her, punching him in the face several times before throwing him into the street outside.

The bearded man said nothing as he returned to his stool and took a sip of his pint.

“Can I buy you a drink?” She asked.

He motioned to the glass in front of him.

“No need,” he replied, clenching his reddened fist several times.

She whispered something to the barman who nodded his head and placed a glass of scotch in front of her rescuer. It earned her a quizzical look from him.

“You look like you need some ice for your hand,” she said, scooting over a few of the stools to come a little closer to him.

“Thank you,” she said as she sipped on her scotch. “You didn’t have to do that.”

The bearded man shrugged his shoulders. 

“The man was asking for it anyway.”

“I guess it was lucky you were here,” she replied.

He gave her the briefest of looks.

“Forgive me for saying, but you look like the kind of lass who can look after herself.”

“Then why did you step in?” She questioned.

He ran a hand over his beard, the fine hairs there sprinkled with a fair amount of grey. He was older than her, that was for sure, but his blue eyes and handsome features were something she could see herself quickly getting used to.

“Like I said, the man was asking for it.”

“Do you usually go around beating up drunks?”

He took another large gulp of his beer.

“Only when they ask for it.”

Feeling bolder, she held her hand out towards him.

“I’m Daenerys, and you are?”

“I’m not anyone you’d want to know,” he replied, the bitterness clear in his voice.

“You have a name, surely?”

“Does it matter what my name is?”

“I want to say thank you properly, it’d be easier if I knew your name.”

He sat still for a number of moments.

“Jorah,” he said as he stared at his beer. “My name is Jorah.”

“Well then, Jorah,” she said with a smile. “What is it that you do for a living?”

He squirmed slightly on his stool.

“Nothing very interesting,” he replied. “Look, if you’re after stimulating conversation, you’re better off going somewhere else.”

“Talk is cheap,” she replied. 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Are you the strong and silent type then?” she asked, trying to turn his attention back to her.

“I’m anything people need me to be,” he replied cryptically.

“Is that so?” She countered with a wry smile, using his own words on him.

She looked him up and down, taking in his haggard appearance, the stories of his life written clearly across the lines on his face. She’d seen when he’d come to her rescue that he was a man who kept himself in shape, his broad chest and powerful arms were a testament to that. He was powerfully built, but muscled and lean.

He turned to look at her, “Look, you seem like a nice enough girl, but I’m not the kind of guy you’d wanna take home.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” She snorted. “Do I look like an easy lay?”

He grimaced at her response before schooling his features.

“Most of the women who come here are just looking for a good time and a warm body to spend the night with. You’d be much better off going anywhere else than this dive. The men who drink here aren’t the type you’d ever want to take home to your mother.”

“They can’t be all bad,” she replied. “You’re here and you seem like a pretty decent guy.”

He shook his head.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said bitterly. “Go home, Daenerys. You don’t belong here.”

“Who are you, my father?”

Her tone brought him up short. It took several moments for him to respond.

“No,” he said, draining the last of his beer. “Just a man who thinks you could do an awful lot better than spend your time in a place like this.”

“You’re here,” she observed as she motioned to the barman to pour her another drink.

“Not out of choice,” he said quietly, downing half of his newly-poured pint in only two mouthfuls.

“Everyone has a choice.”

He looked at her for the briefest of moments, the sadness clearly written in his eyes.

“You think that the world is all sunshine and puppies? You’re going to have a rude awakening sooner or later.”

“I’m not some naive little girl, Jorah.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Then what do you want from me?”

She scooted a little closer to him, surprised when he didn’t immediately move away.

“I want to get to know you a little better,” she said. 

He shook his head.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why, do you have some deep, dark secret you want to keep hidden?”

She saw the merest of flinches from him. Her words had snuck beneath his defences and hit their target.

“Do you ever take no for an answer?” He replied bitterly.

She smiled at him.

“I’m kind of used to getting what I want…eventually.”

“And what is it that you want, Daenerys?”

“I told you, I want to get to know you better.”

* * *

Several hours later, Daenerys reached for her phone, checking to see if the man lying beside her was still asleep. It had taken several drinks and much convincing until he eventually relented under the pressure of her feminine charms.

He had taken her back to his place as they both tore at each other’s clothes and tumbled between the sheets of his bed. Despite his protestations to the contrary earlier that evening, he was gentle and tender toward her, not making any kind of move until she had taken the initiative and dragged him toward the bedroom.

She stretched slightly, feeling the pleasurable ache still present between her legs. He certainly knew what he was doing when it came to the giving and receiving of pleasure before they had both fallen into an exhausted slumber.

She checked through her messages, keeping an eye on Jorah as he slept on his front, a large tattoo of a demon’s face on his left shoulder clearly visible from the position he was laying in.

She read the first message:

_Did you make contact with the target?_

She typed a quick reply.

_Yes._

She waited for a response.

_Good. Make sure you keep working him, he’s our way of getting into the organisation._

She didn’t need telling that. She knew how important it was to make inroads into the organisation that currently ruled every criminal enterprise within the city. She hadn’t trained for years just to blow an undercover operation on a whim.

Detective Sergeant Daenerys Targaryen knew exactly what kind of man she was currently sharing a bed with. Jorah Mormont, hardened criminal, would unwittingly lead her to the heart of an operation that she and her colleagues would bring violently to its knees.


	2. No Regrets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, read, or left kudos on the first chapter!
> 
> I wasn't sure what kind of reaction a darker AU would get, so I'm very happy to see that you're enjoying it so far!

“Had an interesting night, eh, Sarge?” Detective Constable Edd Tollett teased Daenerys as she entered the squad room.

She eyed him up and down, wincing at the bruising on his face caused by Jorah Mormont the night before.

“I hope he didn’t hurt you,” she said to her colleague sympathetically.

Detective Tollett waved his hand dismissively.

“That man hits like my gran,” he said, wincing slightly as he sank into his desk chair.

The bruising on his face said otherwise.

They had done their homework on Jorah Mormont and knew that he was a man not to be trifled with. It had taken many months, but Daenerys and her team had compiled a dossier on the former Marine that detailed a fair portion of his adult life.

Some of it. Not all of it, though.

For many years Jorah Mormont was a model marine, disciplined, dedicated, and serving his country while attaining the highest military honours, until an injury in the line of duty saw him honourably discharged from the Navy.

For several years after his retirement from the Navy, Jorah Mormont appeared to adjust to the civilian way of life fairly easily. He had no run-ins with the police, paid his taxes on time, and lived a life of relative obscurity.

Until his name began to get mixed up in the nefarious dealings of the Lannister family.

The Lannisters had a finger in every criminal enterprise throughout the city. Money, drugs, prostitution…all of it was under the control of Tywin Lannister and his offspring. There wasn’t a criminal act happening within the city limits that the Lannisters were not involved in.

Tywin Lannister had grown increasingly resentful after the death of his wife, who had lost her life while giving birth to their youngest child, Tyrion. Rumours spread that Tywin despised his youngest son and blamed him for her death, berating him for being both a ‘bastard’ and a ‘dwarf’.

While Tywin hated his youngest offspring, he doted on his twins, Cersei and Jaime and spent a lifetime grooming them to take over the family empire when the time came for him to step down. The crime lord knew the Lannister dynasty would be in good hands and Cersei in particular had become adept to sensing her father’s intentions and showing that she had the grit and determination it would take to continue to rule the city by fear.

But how had Jorah Mormont, a seemingly good and honest man, gotten mixed up in the criminal enterprises of the Lannister family?

It was a question that Daenerys had debated over and over in her mind, even more so as she looked at the mugshot of the man she spent last night sleeping with.

Jorah had gone from being a run of the mill civilian to a criminal with a lengthy rap sheet within a few short years. He’d been arrested for everything from stealing a car to grievous bodily harm, handling stolen goods and intimidating witnesses. Despite his many arrests, Jorah Mormont had yet to serve any jail time for his crimes as Tywin Lannister’s lawyer, Petyr Baelish, repeatedly found loopholes and arguments that kept the former marine out of jail.

“Penny for them?” Detective Chief Inspector Davos Seaworth said, walking past Daenerys and perching on the side of her desk.

Daenerys shook her head as she pinned another surveillance photo onto the board, staring at the pictures in the hope that some divine inspiration would strike and lead them to the evidence that would help bring the Lannister family to their knees.

“Rumour has it that you had an interesting time last night,” DCI Seaworth continued, taking a sip of his coffee. “I take it Mormont fell for the ‘damsel in distress’ ploy?”

It had been Daenerys’ idea to set up a scene at the bar their target seemed to constantly frequent. Although Jorah Mormont was considered a hardened criminal, there was a small chance that some of the decent man he used to be was still hidden somewhere beneath his grizzled exterior.

And the ploy had worked.

DC Edd Tollett played his part with aplomb and the ease with which he had played a drunken letch had been unnerving as far as Daenerys was concerned.

And Jorah Mormont fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

As soon as Tollett lifted his hand to his superior and threatened to hit her, Jorah Mormont was on him in an instant, giving him a hiding before tossing him outside the bar and onto his arse.

“I’m going to owe Edd more than a few drinks after the beating Mormont gave him,” Daenerys said, chewing her bottom lip and looking guiltily at her colleague, knowing that if she’d intervened on his behalf, the whole operation would be blown open before it had even started.

“Well, we’ll let him get a few good licks in when we arrest Mormont and his pals,” DCI Seaworth chuckled. “See how he likes it when the boot is on the other foot and kicking _him_ in the face.”

The glee with which DCI Seaworth said it sat uncomfortably with Daenerys. Jorah Mormont had done the honourable thing and came to her defence last night against a man who seemingly wanted to hurt her.

“What intel do you have?” Her boss continued, looking at the case board.

Daenerys ran a hand through her hair, shaking away the uneasy feelings that their target was already beginning to stir within her.

“He lives in apartment a few streets from the Jailhouse and the clothing factory the Lannisters run.”

The factory was nothing more than a front for the Lannisters family’s criminal enterprises. It was a seemingly legal business that laundered much of the money generated from the family’s ill-gotten gains.

“Gave you the grand tour, did he?” DCI Seaworth said, cocking an eyebrow at Daenerys.

She rolled her eyes at the question. Having worked in a male-dominated environment for years, she was used to the misogynistic comments from her colleagues, but she also knew that she wouldn’t get the intel her team needed just by being Mormont’s friend. She would need to use every weapon at her disposal, and that included using her body, and it was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant bringing down the Lannisters for good.

“Find anything interesting while you were there?” DCI Seaworth continued.

Daenerys knew what her boss was insinuating. While her target was still asleep, Daenerys had snooped around his apartment, looking for anything that would help build a case against the Lannisters.

“Well, he didn’t leave anything obvious lying around,” she answered dryly. 

“The man’s not an idiot,” DCI Seaworth remarked, loosening his tie slightly. “I take it that you left something more than just your phone number when you left this morning?”

Of course she had, she wasn’t a fool. 

After checking that her target was still sleeping, she hid two tiny listening devices in the lounge of his apartment before scribbling her number on a piece of paper and closing the door behind her quietly.

“Good work,” DCI Seaworth said. “Let me know when we get anything.”

* * *

Jorah Mormont woke with a pounding headache.

Groaning, he rolled over in bed, disappointed not to find the blonde woman from the night before still lying beside him.

It wasn’t as if he made a habit of bringing back women to his apartment, but Daenerys had worn down his defences and matched him drink for drink last night. She’d been insistent and he had been lonely for too long. It hadn’t taken much pressure on her part before he relented and slept with her.

The fact that she looked just like Lynesse was nothing more than a coincidence. His ex-wife had left him broken-hearted and in a world of trouble, but he had loved her all the same; still missing her touch and the way she would pout at him to get her way.

He pulled himself from the bed, feeling his stomach turn from a night of too much alcohol and too little food. After searching the pile of clothes on the floor, he pulled on his boxer shorts and made his way to the kitchen, seeking a cup of black coffee that would blast the alcohol-induced cobwebs away.

His eye caught the folded piece of paper on the kitchen table. He opened it and smiled, his eyes skimming over the words written on it:

_Jorah,_

_I had a good time last night. We should do it again soon._

_Daenerys._

She even left her phone number at the bottom of the page, though he had no intention of calling her. They had a good time the night before, but that was all. His life was too much of a mess for someone like Daenerys to get mixed up in it.

After a few days of silence she would get the message that he wasn’t interested in starting any kind of relationship with her. They had both needed a warm body and a night with no regrets or strings attached.

He would never see her again and although he’d enjoyed last night, it wasn’t something he would ever repeat. They were ships in the night, destined to never cross each other’s paths again.

So why was his heart betraying him?

_Forget about her!_ His subconscious screamed at him. 

He was interrupted from any further thoughts about her by his mobile phone ringing in the bedroom. Searching through his discarded clothes, he picked it up and answered, feeling a flash of annoyance at Petyr Baelish’s snide voice. 

"Mormont… The Lannisters have a job for you.” 


	3. Shame

Jorah stood in his bathroom, washing away the last remnants of blood from his hands and wincing as he saw the bruising around his right eye beginning to take hold.

It was a simple job; Petyr Baelish had said. 

Well, if it was that simple maybe the slimy lawyer should do his own dirty work.

Jorah shook the stiffness out of his hands as he dried them, careful not to cause any more damage to his already sore knuckles.

Baelish had given him an address, telling him that Tywin Lannister was unhappy that a couple of young drug dealers were selling in an area that the Baratheon family had claimed ownership of. The alliance between the two families had always been strained, but they both realised that working together towards a common goal was a more fruitful endeavour than taking pot-shots at one another. As long as each stuck to their own areas of the city, the alliance remained intact.

The drug dealers in question were part of the Martell clan, a family from across the sea who had made it their business to encroach on new territories in the past couple of months. Led by their linchpin Oberyn Martell, their neighbours from overseas were becoming more than just a minor annoyance.

Recently, there had been attacks on Lannister and Baratheon convoys as they crossed city lines and a number of their seemingly ‘legal’ business properties targeted and looted. The Martell’s were trying to make a point, one that hadn’t been missed by the Lannisters or the Baratheons.

True to form, rather than sully his own hands with the dirty work, Tywin gave the order for Jorah to pay a visit to the drug dealers who were peddling meth and cocaine on Oberyn Martell’s behalf and he had no choice but to do as he was told. He was in too deep and owed far too much to ever be able to quit. As long as he was useful to the Lannisters, they would never let his debt be paid.

He pulled up at a housing estate which had certainly seen better days and began a vigil that lasted several hours, until the drug dealers returned to a rundown building at the far edge of the estate. Climbing from his car, Jorah shoved his hands into his leather jacket as he walked down the street, feeling the cool metal of the knuckleduster in his left pocket. With any luck, the dealers wouldn’t see it coming until it was too late.

At least the loud music they were blaring out would drown out the sounds of the beating he would give them. Baelish had been clear that he wanted the two dealers to be put out of commission for a considerable length of time in order to send a message back to the Martells.

Baelish had also insisted that the intel they had on the drug dealers was accurate and that they had no associates or accomplices with them. 

When had that ever turned out to be true though?

As he set about sending a message to the Martell’s with his fists, Jorah didn't hear the man coming up behind him. Caught off guard, Jorah stumbled to the floor and onto his back, but the man who jumped him was no more of an opponent than the other two had been and so after taking a couple of blows, Jorah soon overpowered the man and gave him an even more ferocious beating than the other two who laid sprawled across the floor.

He kicked the man several more times as the frustration of being a lapdog for the Lannisters overcame him and he finally allowed some of his pent-up frustration to be released. It felt good to let off a little steam and besides, he was doing the city a favour by putting those lowlife shits to the sword. At least they wouldn’t be able to sell drugs to any other kids for a month or two.

It was a lie Jorah had been telling himself since getting caught up in the Lannisters deceitful web of dodgy dealings. Most of the people he was sent to intimidate or teach a lesson deserved it.

Most of them. Not all.

The images of those innocent people he hurt were the ones that haunted him at night, the ones that drove him to seek solace in the bottom of the whiskey bottle. It was the only way he could drown them out as they stared back at him with accusing eyes. It didn’t matter that he only did enough to get the job done. It didn’t matter that he pulled his punches and let those innocent people run away.

He was a criminal and just as bad as the rest of them.

He turned on the shower and pulled his t-shirt over his head, wincing at the pain of the booted foot that had landed a swift kick to his ribs. A hot shower and a couple of slugs of scotch would see him right.

Jorah closed his eyes as he stood in the shower, wishing that the hot water could wash away his sins, of which he had many. As the water cascaded over him, he let out a deep sigh and wished that he could go back to a time when things were simpler.

Before he met Lynesse.

Before he met Lynesse, he’d had a job, friends, and a family.

Now he had nothing. Not even Lynesse to show for it.

While she had run off some place with the next easy target she could find, she left Jorah to deal with carnage left in her wake. It was her fault that he ever got himself mixed up with the Lannisters in the first place, but as much as he wanted to blame her for his predicament, he had been naive enough to believe that her love for him was real. He walked blindly into her chaotic life with the foolish notion that his love could tame her.

And she had ruined him.

He’d sworn off women ever since, knowing that he hardly led the kind of lifestyle that leant itself to holding down a stable relationship. Lynesse had broken his heart and he was in no hurry to pick up the shattered pieces and put them back together again to give it over to somebody new.

He was single, but he wasn’t a saint and had indulged in a little easy sex here and there. Other than getting blind drunk, losing himself in the throes of passion with a woman was the only other way that he could calm the voices in his head.

The blonde girl he met the night before, Daenerys, was just another of those women he brought back to his apartment who would leave before he woke, and he would never see again. They never left their numbers.

Never.

But Daenerys had.

She might have enjoyed the sex, but he was hardly the greatest company and was an awful conversationalist, and his face had certainly seen better days and younger years. There was nothing remotely endearing about him, certainly nothing that would make a woman as beautiful as Daenerys want to even consider the notion of hooking up with him again.

The thought of Daenerys writhing naked beneath him caused his body to react and Jorah groaned deeply when he felt himself harden, feeling the shame as well as the water wash over him as he took himself in his hand and continued to think of her, imagining that it was her hand stroking him and not his own.

He screwed his eyes shut as he found his release before washing himself clean and climbing out of the shower. He suddenly felt ashamed for imagining her while he pleasured himself and it was another stick to beat himself with, adding another to his already growing arsenal of weapons that he would use to tear at the remnants of his self-worth and belief. 

He was soiled, damaged goods and of no use to anyone except to those for whom he worked for. With each job they gave him, Jorah felt another small part of his soul being sold to the devil as he attempted to repay a debt that could never be fulfilled. Had it been only his own fate at stake, he would have taken his own life many years ago, but the mess Lynesse had dragged him into was far bigger than just he alone.

Even so, it would never make any of what he’d done acceptable, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise. 

Neglecting to get dressed, Jorah wrapped a towel around his waist and went in search for the bottle of scotch, taking it to the bedroom with him and not bothering with a glass. The booze would drown the voices out and take him in its gentle embrace until he could hardly hear their voices at all.


	4. Looks Can Be Deceiving

Daenerys sat in the squad room, glancing at her phone every few minutes to check for any messages or calls. It had been three days since meeting Jorah Mormont at the Jailhouse bar and despite leaving her number, he had yet to call her.

“Any word from lover boy?” Detective Tollett asked as he sat behind his desk, still wincing slightly from the beating Mormont had given him. The bruises were fading, but Tollett was determined he would get his own back when they finally brought Mormont and the rest of his associates in on charges that would actually stick.

Daenerys shook her head, ignoring the smug grin from her colleague, who continued to gleefully tell her of all the things he would do when their target was finally in custody. It didn’t sit well with Daenerys. Jorah Mormont would be handcuffed and unable to protect himself from a police officer who wanted to give him a beating. It was unethical as well as against the law to physically assault a suspect, but Daenerys was all too aware that the thin blue line would protect their own and write off any injuries Mormont sustained as being from a ‘fall’ or an ‘accident’.

The line between what was considered legal and not was something that became frighteningly blurry and Daenerys knew she’d been dangerously close to crossing it during her time on the force. It seemed as if the judicial service was constantly weighted in the suspect’s favour and sometimes it took a little going off-piste to get results. All was fair in love and war, wasn’t it?

Jorah Mormont was one of the bad guys. He was a violent criminal whose reputation preceded him. He was the enemy, a man who went against everything she stood for.

So why did the thought of him being at the mercy of her colleagues make her feel so uneasy?

It would be a taste of his own medicine and nothing that he wouldn’t have had coming already.

He’d thrown Tollett from the Jailhouse bar with a boot up his ass and a flea in his ear while expecting nothing in return from Daenerys. Underneath the gruff exterior was a kind and gentle man, surely?

Jorah could have been rough with her when they crashed through the door of his apartment and began tearing at each other’s clothes, but he had paused several times before he entered her as they lay on his bed, checking for any signs that she wanted him to stop.

If Jorah Mormont was as violent and evil as rumours suggested, why had he been so gentle with her?

From the moment she walked into the Jailhouse bar, her eyes had been drawn to his. There was something in those soulful blue eyes of his that spoke to her. Behind the scowls, there was a sense of sadness that pervaded him, following him like a dark passenger that refused to leave his side.

Maybe he was a good man who had found himself caught up in a bad situation.

Daenerys shook her head, if that were true, then why the demon tattoo on his shoulder?

The gruesome image covered almost his entire shoulder blade and had stared evilly back at her as she watched Jorah sleep. The tattoo was synonymous with anyone who worked for Tywin Lannister, a mark that meant the person who bore it was not to be trifled with. Jorah would have needed to be willing to have such a mark placed on him, as intricate and detailed as the design was.

Daenerys checked her phone again.

Still nothing.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost the end of the shift but the night was still early, and it would give her more than enough time to return home, get changed, and make her way to the Jailhouse bar.

If Jorah Mormont refused to come to her, well, she would just go to him instead.

* * *

The Jailhouse was emptier than normal, but Jorah Mormont once again sat on his usual stool at the bar, nursing a pint of beer, only half-listening to the football match being played on the bar’s flatscreen TV.

He turned instantly at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hello, stranger.”

“Daenerys, what are you doing here?”

Was it a good sign that he’d bothered to remember her name?

She sat on the stool next to his and ordered a scotch on the rocks.

She nodded her thanks to the barman.

“I thought you might have called by now,” she said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. “I had a good time the other night.”

Jorah ran a hand over his face.

“What happened to your eye?” She asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing much,” he replied. “I guess I should be more careful walking through doors.”

It was a flimsy excuse and it didn’t take a cop to realise that. He got it in a fight, that much was obvious.

“We had a good time the other night, didn’t we?” She asked, hoping that she wasn’t sounding too desperate. Mormont was a smart man and if she pushed things too far, too quickly, the game would be up, and he’d be onto her. She needed to keep her cover intact.

Jorah refuse to look at her as he spoke.

“You’re a nice girl, Daenerys,” he said, taking another sip of his beer.

She bristled at the remark.

“I’m not a child, I know what I want.”

This time he looked at her.

“And what is it that you want, Daenerys?”

Were they going to repeat this whole routine again? 

_Don’t look too keen,_ she told herself.

“I thought there might be something between us, but I guess I was just another pretty face and an easy lay for you.”

She gulped down the rest of her drink before slamming it on the bar, praying that her ploy would work. She almost made it to the door before Jorah called out to her, taking her gently by the arm and back to his apartment.

* * *

Daenerys rolled onto her back, breathing heavily as she listened to the sound of Jorah removing the condom and discarding it in the kitchen bin. He walked back to the bed, seemingly comfortable with his own nakedness. It was then that she spotted the bruising on his chest.

“Got that walking into another door?” She asked, pulling the bedsheet a little higher to cover her modesty. Even though she’d slept with this man twice already, she didn’t want to come across as too brazen with him.

He climbed back into the bed.

“I didn’t see it until it was too late. I’d already walked into it by the time it hit me.”

Surely he knew that she didn’t believe a word of his story, the door being code for what had really caused the marks on his body.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” She asked him as he lay on his side beside her, propping his head on one arm bent at the elbow.

Something flashed across his features for the briefest of moments. He answered her question with one of his own, wanting to change the subject to anything but him.

“So what is it that you do, Daenerys?” The way he said it implying that he wanted to know her full name.

“Targaryen,” she answered, hoping that it wouldn’t mean anything to him.

“What is it that you do for a living, Daenerys Targaryen?”

She looked at him, his blue eyes searching hers. Was he testing her? Was her cover blown already, and what would happen if it was? The Lannisters would surely order her murder and make Jorah be the one to kill her.

She was playing a dangerous game after all; one wrong move and her life might be over in an instant.

“Nothing exciting,” she replied, sticking to the story she and her colleagues had created. They had left no detail to chance. “I work in an office as an admin assistant. Exciting, huh?”

If pushed, she would be able to prove her story if Jorah decided to check up on her. There would be employee records, payslips…all manner of documents that would ensure her story stayed straight.

She felt his fingertips ghost along her bare arm, causing goosebumps to rise upon her skin.

“I’m sure it has its moments,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Mmmhmm,” she answered, enjoying the sensation his touch had on her body. “Sometimes there’s even a queue for the photocopier.”

He chuckled and the rumble in his chest caused a delightful twitch in her stomach.

“And what is it that you do?”

His smile quickly turned into a frown as he debated what to tell her.

“I work in private security.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

“Sounds dangerous,” Daenerys observed.

“Not so much. It’s pretty boring really.”

“Still, it must pay well if you live in a place like this,” she observed.

He quickly removed his hand from her arm, rolling onto his back.

“I need to be up early in the morning,” he said abruptly as he rearranged the pillows under his head.

Was that his not-so-subtle way of telling her to leave?

“Do you want me to go?” She asked, pulling the covers off of herself.

His hand on her arm stopped her as he gripped it gently.

“Only if you want to.”

This man had already given her several mixed signals, just what type of game was he playing with her? Did they both know they were playing cat and mouse with one another?

A part of her screamed at her to leave, to abandon the whole operation and never see the complicated, brooding man beside her again. She’d worked too hard to let it all slip away now, though, and what she didn’t need was any messy feelings getting in the way. They were using one another and that was the way it needed to stay. There was no room for any emotions, the man lying next to her was her target and nothing more.

So why did it feel so right when he reached out an arm and gently pulled her toward him?

_It’s just a job. This doesn’t mean anything,_ she told herself as she closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep.


	5. Digging Deeper

Daenerys left his apartment before Jorah woke, much like she had done last time, but not before checking to see if the listening devices she placed in his apartment still remained hidden.

The thought of placing more devices throughout the apartment crossed her mind, before she realised that the more she planted, the more likely it would be that their target would spot one and the entire operation would be blown.

“Had another interesting evening?’ Detective Tollett asked her with a smug grin.

She waved his lurid smile away with a dismissive hand.

“No more interesting than usual.”

“Really?” Tollett replied. “So you didn’t meet up with lover boy again last night?”

She scowled at him.

“Even if I did, it’s none of your business,” she told him coolly.

It was then that she heard the noises emanating from Tollett’s computer - noises that she and Jorah had made last night.

“I thought it was time that we checked the devices and see what they picked up,” Tollett grinned. “It made for some very interesting listening.”

She stuck her middle finger up at him.

“At least one of us is getting some,” she said, still hearing her own moans of pleasure. If nothing else, their target was more than competent in the sack.

Ignoring the continuing soundtrack of her previous evening, Daenerys decided to do a little investigating of her own.

While at Jorah’s apartment the previous evening, she noticed a picture of a younger-looking Jorah and an older man who must have been his father. Both of them wore military uniforms at what looked like some sort of ceremony.

Before Jorah had dragged her to his bedroom, he’d caught her looking at the picture and Daenerys couldn’t mistake the look of sorrow that crept over his handsome features. It was almost as if he was looking at the picture with a sense of regret and while she wanted to ask him more about it, his hands and lips were doing a fine job of distracting her from anything other than responding to his sensual ministrations.

Maybe she should have asked him as they lay in bed, but she’d already mis-stepped once by commenting on the size of his apartment and she wasn’t willing to risk raising his suspicions further about her intentions towards him.

The apartment Jorah lived in was large by anyone’s standards and boasted two bedrooms and bathrooms. All of the kitchen appliances were top of the range and the huge flatscreen TV and sound system made it clear that her target seemed to be living a life of luxury.

Maybe crime really did pay?

She dismissed the thought before booting up her computer and typing the name ‘Mormont’ into the police database. It was a long shot and not likely to lead to any new information. She knew only too well how long Jorah’s list of arrests were, but there was a tiny chance that she might be able to find another Mormont somewhere in the system.

Her eyes widened when the computer pinged back a result within seconds:

Jeor Mormont.

She clicked on the name and opened up the case file:

**Date: 15/09/10**

**Cause of death: Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen.**

Jorah’s father was dead, that much was clear, and Daenerys wasn’t sure that she wanted to read any further, particularly in light of the many violent offences the man’s son had been arrested for. Surely Jorah had nothing to do with his own father’s death?

She read the case notes:

**Victim was found face-down in the backroom of his watch repair shop. Signs of forced entry through the shop’s front door. Evidence found suggests a brick was thrown through the glass and allowed the assailants to gain entry.**

**No working CCTV on the premises, but witnesses claim that they heard at least three distinct male voices shouting for a number of minutes before calling the police to report the disturbance.**

**The victim was unable to be revived by the emergency services and post-mortem results showed no signs of defensive wounds on the victim’s hands, indicating that he may have known his attacker(s).**

**Post-mortem also revealed that the victim’s third finger on his right hand had been severed, likely by some kind of bolt cutter. Blood patterns indicate that the finger was removed while the victim was still alive.**

**No fingerprints other than the victims were found at the scene and although DNA separate to the victim’s was collected at the scene, this has not matched any samples currently held on our databases.**

Jorah’s father had died almost three years ago, roughly the same time that Jorah registered his first arrest. Surely it was more than just coincidence that Jorah’s descent into the criminal underworld had begun at roughly the same time his father met his demise?

Feeling that she was onto something, Daenerys Googled the name ‘Jeor Mormont’ and found several articles pertaining to the man’s military career. He had been a decorated Navy officer and several of the articles mentioned how his son was proudly following his footsteps and making a name for himself in the military.

Jeor Mormont had finally retired from the Navy two years shy of his sixty-fifth birthday and opened a small watch repair shop in the city, which dealt mainly with antique pieces. As far as Daenerys could tell, Jeor Mormont had led a post-Navy life of relative obscurity, much like his son had, until the man found himself on the wrong end of a knife.

The news of his death had made it into the local newspaper and was billed as a ‘robbery gone wrong,’ but all of the evidence pointed towards his death being a deliberate act, especially when an inventory of the shop revealed that nothing of any value was found to be missing. The removal of the man’s finger made it personal.

Going back through the case notes, Daenerys was relieved to see that Jorah had been eliminated as a potential suspect, having a cast-iron alibi for the night in question. The investigating officer had given a clear analysis of Jorah in his notes.

**Only next of kin we found was a son, Jorah Mormont. DNA swabs and fingerprints taken but returned no results when compared with evidence collected from the scene. CCTV cameras show Jorah Mormont in attendance at a local bar on the night in question.**

**The son appeared shocked and shaken when I delivered the news of his father’s death and after questioning him at length, I do not believe that he knew anything pertinent about the incident.**

**When questioned on the significance of the severed finger, Jorah Mormont said that his father rarely wore any type of jewellery on a regular basis. Mormont was questioned several times over the course of the investigation and there is no evidence to suggest that he had any involvement in his father’s death.**

**No further suspects have been identified at this time and attempts to contact the victim’s sister or nieces have yielded no results. When questioned, the victim’s son said that his aunt and cousins were likely to be in their cabin in the far north of the mainland and that he would send word to them of his father’s death.**

Daenerys released the breath she’d been holding. It was clear that Jorah had nothing to do with his father’s murder, and yet the man’s death and Jorah’s own downward spiral into the life of a criminal could not be dismissed as a mere coincidence.

Using the names listed in the case file, Daenerys ran a search on Jeor Mormont’s sister and nieces. The search brought up no results - almost as if they had disappeared from the face of the earth. There was no discernible trace of those women that she could find. Were they still in the North and unaware of what had happened to the Mormont men?

Daenerys scribbled the names of the women and their last known address and would take a visit. If nothing else, it would serve to rule out their involvement in the older Mormont’s death and perhaps shed light on what had caused his only son to suddenly turn to a life of crime.

Maybe she could drop it causally into the conversation the next time she met with Jorah?

Who was she kidding, they were sleeping together, they were hardly in it for the conversation. Jorah had remained tight-lipped about what he did, and it would take more than a couple of drinks and a seductive purr in his ear to get him to reveal more about himself. 

They were both in it for their own selfish reasons, he to have a warm body to lay next to him at night and she as a way into the Lannister criminal empire. The sex was great, but it was the only thing that they had in common. Jorah Mormont was not the type of man who engaged in much pillow talk.

_Unless I can convince him that I want something more,_ Daenerys thought to herself. The man had married at least once in his life, surely there was something of a romantic left in him?

She needed to find a way to make Jorah see that she could be good for him and then maybe, slowly, he’d start to tell her more about himself. It was time to apply a little pressure to see if it would yield results.

It was just as case of finding which buttons to press….


	6. Lannister Debts

_They pulled him into the room, wrenching his arms behind his back and pushing him forwards until he fell to his knees in front of Tywin Lannister._

_“You know, this would have been much easier if you’d just agreed to the terms of our deal,” Tywin sniffed as he straightened his suit. “I made it very clear the last time we spoke.”_

_He spat the blood from his mouth as Tywin continued to taunt him._

_“I was hoping that we had persuaded you to see things our way. I am not a monster; I gave you the chance to accept my deal.”_

_“I don’t have the money,” he coughed on another mouthful of blood. “But I’ll get it to you, I swear.”_

_Tywin sighed as he pulled a box from his desk._

_“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”_

_He found the box thrust underneath his nose. Staring back at him was a finger and on it a ring with the sigil of a bear. He recognised the ring instantly._

_It belonged to his father._

Jorah woke with a yell as sweat dripped from his face. He glanced around, relieved to find that Daenerys was nowhere to be seen. Trying to explain himself would lead to more questions that he was unwilling to answer.

Why had the dream come back to haunt him now? It had been several months since that particular movie stopped playing on a loop in his unconscious mind.

He faintly remembered looking at the picture of his father before walking Daenerys to his bedroom. Was it the instant pang of guilt he felt when he looked upon the picture of his father when they had shared happier times?

His father had never been keen on Lynesse, from the moment the two of them had met. He had warned him that women like her were always more trouble than they were worth.

He refused to listen, and it had ended up costing him everything.

Lynesse had run up so many debts and all in his name. She had borrowed money off of loan sharks and criminals and then fled to find her next mark when the credit ran dry.

Lynesse borrowing money from the Lannisters proved to be the biggest mistake.

And a fatal one at that.

The interest rates were so high that Jorah knew he would never be able to pay the money back and for a few weeks, it was all he could do to hawk most of the precious belongings he still had to try to make a tiny dent in the debt he owed.

But then Tywin Lannister changed the rules.

Suddenly, it wasn’t money that he wanted, but Jorah’s military experience and skills with numerous weaponry.

Tywin’s offer was clear - Jorah would work in any capacity that the Lannisters saw fit. If they asked him to hold up a bank, he would do it. If they told him to give a beating to a drug dealer, he would do it.

He refused, of course.

He should have known that Tywin had an ace up his sleeve from the smug grin the man gave him at the time, and it was only a few short days later when Jorah found himself jumped from behind and bundled into the back of a van. 

They dragged him into Tywin’s office as the man sat proudly behind the large wooden desk before placing his father’s severed finger before him. The message was clear, they had killed his father and would not stop going after his family until Jorah finally agreed to the deal.

What other choice did he have?

His phone chirped on the bedside table, bringing Jorah back to the present with a jolt. He answered it irritably.

“Mr. Lannister wants to see you at his office in an hour,” the snide voice of Petyr Baelish said. “Don’t be late.”

Since when had Baelish turn into Tywin’s secretary?

Jorah dismissed the thought. You did whatever Tywin Lannister asked you to, lest you end up dead in a ditch for questioning his motives.

He pulled himself wearily from his bed, wondering what wild goose chase Tywin would send him on this time.

* * *

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand,” Jorah said as he stood before Tywin Lannister and the man’s daughter, Cersei.

“It’s quite simple, Mormont,” Tywin told him patiently. “I want you to accompany my daughter to the charity ball this evening.”

“What about the Clegane brothers?” Jorah asked.

Any time there was a need for a security detail for Cersei, her children or her brother, the Clegane’s had usually been the ones to fit the bill.

“They are otherwise indisposed,” Tywin replied testily.

Jorah knew better than to ask. Both Sandor and Gregor had fearsome reputations and it was common knowledge that the two could barely tolerate each other. Had they got into yet another disagreement?

“I’m assuming you don’t own a tuxedo,” Tywin continued, giving Jorah a dismissive look. “One will be provided for you. All you need to do is stay by my daughter’s side for the entirety of the evening. You are not leave her alone, not even for a second. Is that clear?”

Jorah saw the look on Cersei’s face and knew that she was less than pleased about her father’s request.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Jorah asked, unsure as to where this new brazen side of him had come from.

Tywin shut him down immediately.

“It is not your place to ask questions.”

“How can I protect your daughter if I’m not aware of any potential threats?”

Tywin bristled visibly at the remark.

“You are there to put your body in the way of anyone who means my daughter harm,” Tywin told him stiffly. “But do try not to get yourself killed this evening.”

“Will that be all?” Jorah asked.

“For now,” Tywin replied. “Make sure you shave before this evening. I will not have one of my staff looking like a vagrant at an event like this. It would not look good for business.”

Jorah wasn’t entirely sure as to what type of business his boss was referring to.

“What type of event is it?” Jorah asked.

It was enough to earn Tywin’s ire.

“I am paying you to follow my orders, not ask questions,” the older man bit back. “If you must know, it is a charity ball. Strictly tuxedoes and ball gowns.”

“In aid of what?”

“The Human Trafficking Initiative,” Tywin answered. “Our business enterprises are now one of the biggest benefactors to the charity.”

The thought alone was enough to make Jorah feel sick. The Lannisters made millions from the trafficking of illegal immigrants across the several borders of the mainland. As people came from the East looking for a better life, the Lannisters would sell them to the highest bidder and not give a second thought to what happened to them afterwards. The people they smuggled across the borders were collateral and a source of income, nothing more.

How utterly like the Lannisters to be the public face of such a humanitarian initiative all the while profiting from the continued sale of illegal immigrants behind closed doors. 

Jorah felt his stomach roll at the thought. He wanted no part of this but was powerless to do anything about it. He had no choice but to attend the ball with Tywin Lannister’s daughter as she smiled to the cameras and played the dutiful philanthropist. This was bigger than him, way, _way_ bigger than just him.

“You’ll need this,” Petyr Baelish smirked, passing Jorah a box with gloved hands.

He opened it to find a 9mm pistol inside. He took it out of the case and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

“It goes without saying that you know what to do with it if the need arises?”

Jorah nodded his head. Should he need to use the weapon, he would dispose of it in a manner that would ensure no one found it.

“Try not to make a scene tonight. Just stand next to me and be quiet,” Cersei said as she brushed past Jorah and out of the room.

She clearly did not want his company this evening and for Jorah the feeling was mutual. 

He wanted no part of any of this either.

* * *

DCI Davos Seaworth sat in the driver’s seat of his sedan, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve the envelope of money before handing it to his confidential informant.

“And you’re sure that the intel is good?” Davos said.

The bald-headed man sitting in the passenger seat of the car nodded his head.

“My information has always been reliable, has it not?”

Davos couldn’t deny that. The Spider had always come up trumps in the past, but there was something about the perfumed man that didn’t sit well with him. Still, as long as his informant continued to give him information on the Lannister family, he was willing to look past some of the dubious ways the Spider went about gathering his information.

“I have another question, if you don’t mind?”

The Spider nodded. “You may ask, but I cannot promise I will answer.”

“What’s in this for you?” Davos asked. “Why risk getting on the wrong side of the Lannisters?”

The Spider looked at Davos for a number of moments before answering.

“That is more than one question, detective,” the other man replied. “I work for no one. I only wish to do what is best for the good of the city.”

Davos furrowed his brow.

“What does that mean?”

The Spider opened the car door and climbed out.

“I’m afraid you’re out of questions, Detective. Cersei Lannister will be at the charity ball tonight, along with your target, Mr. Mormont. That is all I am able to tell you.”

Davos sat back in his seat, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting one. Pulling out his phone, he dialled a familiar number.

“Detective Targaryen, I have a job for you.”


	7. Following Orders

_Bringing the van to a stop, he applied the handbrake and jumped out of the vehicle, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes before opening the rear doors._

_Several young women peered out; their eyes not yet used to the sunlight. They had driven for several hours without stopping. The risk was too great to stop, even for a comfort break._

_He drove through the night, knowing that the chances of being pulled over would be less in the dead of night. The sun had already risen, and it looked like being another stiflingly hot day._

_He motioned with his hand for the women to leave the van, giving them an encouraging smile as they did so. They trusted him, he was a good man and was taking them to a better life than they had in their homeland. They had been promised safety after finally making it to the mainland. Their dreams would come true._

_To them, he represented everything good about the country these young women had risked their lives to reach. They spoke little of the common tongue, and upon arrival one of them had asked in broken English, “You good man?”_

_He nodded and helped them those first few days, bringing the women food and water as they remained hidden in a cramped room away from the prying eyes of the outside world._

_That same woman asked if he was taking them to their new home when he arrived to collect them last night._

_Again, he nodded his head. The women trusted him. He would help them like he had before._

_Now that they had arrived at their final destination, he led the group of young women into a warehouse. They had expected him to follow, but once they were inside, he swallowed deeply and padlocked the door, trying to walk away before the screaming began as the women realised that their dreams of freedom had been ripped away from them. Instead, they would be chained and at the mercy of whichever nameless buyer had purchased them. They would be forced to do whatever their owner told them to. Tywin Lannister had promised his buyer compliant young women and the man never reneged on a deal._

_He stumbled away from the door, his stomach lurching as the girls screamed, begging him to come back and free them._

_He threw up violently, panting for breath as he placed his hands on his knees, hunching over and spitting bile from his mouth._

_Those women would be held hostage for the rest of their lives, and he wanted nothing more than to go back and free them, but they would never understand that he was just as much of a hostage as they were._

“Mormont, are you even listening to me?” Cersei Lannister scowled.

Jorah shook his head, realising he’d been daydreaming.

Except it was a nightmare and far too real. He had taken those innocent, trusting girls to a group of monsters who would do as they pleased with them. He might have not been the one to sell them into slavery, but he was just as guilty as the Lannisters. Those women thought him a good man, but he was no better than the animals he worked for.

He must have driven on autopilot as they arrived at the hotel before Jorah realised.

He jumped out of the car and jogged around to the other side to open the rear door, offering Cersei his hand, which she ignored as she clambered out of the car, tottering slightly in her heeled shoes.

“You talk when I tell you to,” Cersei instructed him. “Keep your eyes open and say nothing until I tell you to. Is that clear, Mormont?”

He nodded as he adjust the jacket of his tuxedo, feeling awkward and uncomfortable in such attire.

Cersei let out a breath of smoke as she finished her cigarette before crushing it with her shoe.

“Let’s get this over with then.”

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen fiddled with the tight blouse and short black skirt she’d been instructed to wear that evening, hoping that she looked like a capable waitress at what was a high-end function.

DCI Seaworth had called and relayed the message that their target would be accompanying Cersei Lannister to the ball held by the Human Trafficking Initiative. Having decided on her next course of action, ‘accidentally’ bumping into Jorah Mormont at the ball would be the ideal opportunity to carry out the next stage of her plan. 

They had slept together twice already, and Daenerys knew that with a little more bait, she might be able to get Mormont to bite and become less guarded around her, but to do that she would have to take a few risks by making herself vulnerable. Mormont had already proven once that he was a sucker for a damsel in distress and now she really needed to hammer the point home.

There was still some good in Jorah Mormont somewhere…she had seen it with her own eyes already.

DCI Seaworth agreed that it wouldn’t look suspicious if Daenerys bumped into Mormont during the evening. Her cover story of being an admin assistant meant that it wouldn’t look out of place for her to have a second job to make ends meet.

All she had to do was make it seem like she knew what she was doing. There was some sort of unwritten etiquette that said that trays of glasses should be held only on the left side when offering them to guests and empty glasses collected from the right.

This was more confusing than collecting her degree scroll from the professor at university. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Collecting a tray of glasses full to the brim with Champagne, Daenerys took a deep breath and went in search of her target.

* * *

Jorah followed Cersei as she made her way around the room, following her commands like the good little guard dog that he was. Tywin Lannister had made it abundantly clear that he was not to leave Cersei’s side, not even for a moment, but both he and Cersei drew the line at following her into the bathroom.

“Stay put,” Cersei spat at him as she made her way into the stalls.

All he needed was a leash and collar and his look would be complete. He was a pawn for them and nothing more, the Lannisters would yank his chain as many times as they pleased, knowing that this particular dog would never bite the hand that fed him. He had too much to lose if he put a foot wrong and they would not release the stranglehold they held on his life any time soon, certainly not while he was still useful to them.

Cersei had not reappeared from the bathroom after several minutes and Jorah was about to throw caution to the wind just as the door opened and Cersei stumbled out, wiping at her nose before looking at her bodyguard. He could tell by the dilation of her pupils that Cersei had indulged in a line or two of cocaine.

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Do you have something to say, Mormont?” She challenged him as he began to walk beside her back to the main ballroom.

He shook his head; he wasn’t paid to ask questions. What Cersei snorted up her own nose was her concern, not his.

“No, ma’am,” he replied stiffly.

“Then stop fucking looking at me like that,” she barked before plastering on a fake smile and shaking the hand of one of the local government officials, nodding her head eagerly and smiling sweetly at the grey-haired man. Cersei Lannister was many things, but no one could doubt her talents as a liar and master manipulator.

Jorah returned his attention to scanning the room for any possible threats. His eyes widened when they landed on Daenerys Targaryen as she shuffled between the guests offering glasses of Champagne and collecting the empty flutes that were left carelessly around the ballroom.

Everything else seemed to lose focus as his eyes narrowed in on the young woman. She worked in an office, so what the hell was she doing here? She looked up and their eyes met, and he found that he couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried.

It was only when Cersei clicked her fingers in front of his nose that he realised the woman had been talking to him.

“Your night is over, Mormont,” she told him coldly as she threaded her arm through the arm of the middle-aged government official. “I have no further need of you.”

“Your father gave me strict instructions to stay with you, Miss Lannister.”

“And I am freeing you of your obligation. Mr. Tyrell here will keep me company for the night and see me safely returned home, won’t you?”

Jorah risked a glance at the man. He was staring at Cersei with admiration and the look of a poor sucker falling instantly in love.

The man nodded his head.

“Of course, my lady.”

Cersei shooed Jorah away with a shake of the hand.

“But your father - “

“Will not be happy if he hears you’ve disobeyed me,” Cersei cut him off. “Now fuck off. Don’t make me tell you again.”

He watched them walk away, knowing there would be hell to pay when Tywin Lannister found out, but what else was he supposed to do?

Loosening the bowtie around his neck, Jorah made to leave the room and return to his lonely apartment when he heard a crashing noise coming from near the cloakroom. Feeling for the pistol in the waistband at the back of his trousers, he made his way silently to the area where the sound came from.

He found Daenerys trying to pick up the broken shards of glass.

“Daenerys, are you ok?” He asked, crouching down beside her.

She launched herself into his arms and held him tightly, he could feel her shaking.

“He’s after me,” she sobbed.

“Who is after you?” He held her at arm’s length to look her over before helping her to her feet.

“Take me home Jorah, please.”

He nodded and kissed the side of her head, taking her in his arms and leading her from the hotel to the black sedan parked out the front.


	8. A Damsel in Distress

Ushering the tearful Daenerys into his car, Jorah looked at her worriedly as he pulled away from the hotel. He risked another glance as he made his way down the now quiet streets.

“Where do you live?” He asked.

He heard Daenerys gasp.

“No!” she said desperately, “I can’t go home, he knows where I live!”

Jorah glanced at her again before turning the car into a side road, the route now so familiar that he could drive back to his apartment without even thinking about it.

“Who?” he asked.

Daenerys sniffed back her tears.

“An old boyfriend, it didn’t end well between us.”

“And you saw him at the hotel?”

Daenerys nodded. 

“I think he’s been following me,” she answered. “Can I stay with you tonight, Jorah?”

He frowned.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Don’t you have any friends you could stay with?”

She began to sob again. 

“They all know Khal and what he can do, I can’t risk them getting hurt too.”

But she had no such qualms about him getting hurt, he realised.

Yet his eye twitched at the thought of any man raising their hand to the beautiful young woman sat in the passenger seat of his car.

“Was he violent towards you?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

It prompted another sob from Daenerys.

“It’s why I left him,” she answered, her voice shaking. “But he won’t take no for an answer. I need your help, Jorah. Please.”

Despite the depths he had sunk to in his time under the Lannisters control, Jorah knew that he would never be able to turn his back on someone in need. It had been instilled in him at a young age and he had joined the Navy in the hopes of being able to protect those weaker than himself. He may have broken all of those sacred vows a hundred times over, but there was still a small amount of decency left within him somewhere…

The rest of the drive was made in silence. After pulling up outside the building, Jorah opened the passenger door and offered Daenerys his hand before placing it on the small of her back and guiding her inside.

He closed his front door and led Daenerys to the sofa. She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes.

“I’ll make you a coffee,” Jorah said, busying himself in the kitchen. He’d never been comfortable around the emotions of women.

She turned to look at him.

“Have you got anything stronger?”

He frowned. “That’s not a good idea, Daenerys. You’re upset, you’ve had a shock - “

“Please, Jorah. I just need to get him out of my head and forget about him for a while.”

He finished making the coffee and placed a mug in front of her.

“Drinking won’t help, believe me, I know. You’ll wake up in the morning feeling worse than you did before.” His tone making it clear that he was speaking from bitter experience.

They sat in silence for a number of moments before Jorah finally spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Daenerys replied, knowing that she’d quickly have to come up with a plausible history for her and Khal. She felt guilty for using her ex to sink her claws into her target. Khal Drogo was many things, but he’d never lifted a finger in anger to her in the entire time they’d been together.

“It might help,” Jorah suggested, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“He’s a part of my life I’d rather forget,” she replied. “You probably think I’m some stupid young girl who can’t look after herself.”

He put his coffee down and looked at her with some surprise.

“I don’t think that at all,” he replied. “Maybe you just have a habit of dating the wrong men,” he suggested.

“All the bad boys?” She said coyly. “Does that include you?”

She saw the way his face paled at her words as he swallowed deeply.

_Fuck,_ she thought. They’d slept together twice; they weren’t dating, and now she might have scared him away completely.

She willed herself to think of something to repair the damage her aberration had caused and forced herself to cry again. Jorah Mormont had a weakness for women in distress and his need to ride to their rescue as their knight in shining armour would override any semblance of rational thought within him.

He pulled her towards him as she continued to sob, making comforting noises as he rubbed his hand over her back.

“It’s ok, you’re safe here,” he said.

It was a bare-faced lie. Daenerys Targaryen was unknowingly risking her life just by being with him. He had made countless enemies in his time under the Lannisters thumb and knew that any one of them could take a pot-shot at him any time they pleased. Part of him wished they would so that he would no longer have to live this torturous existence.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he told her before breaking away to remove his tuxedo jacket and bowtie, tossing them carelessly on the coffee table.

Daenerys seemed to take it as an opportunity to launch herself at him.

Before he’d had a chance to take a breath, Daenerys held his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue begging for entrance to his willing mouth. She moved closer until she sat on his lap, she could feel his arousal through the black trousers he was wearing. She moved her mouth from his lips to his neck as she began tugging at the hems of his shirt, making her intentions clear.

He pulled away, trying to keep her at arm’s length and resisting her touch.

“What’s wrong?”

Jorah stood up quickly, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“This is wrong,” he said, letting out a deep breath. His arousal was still evident even though he was now standing.

“Don’t you want me?” Daenerys asked, pulling herself up and moving towards him.

He took another step back.

“You’re upset,” he told her. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide whether you’re taking advantage of me or not?” She countered.

He shook his head. “It’s not right.”

“But what if it’s what I want?”

The sudden change in Jorah’s behaviour caught her by surprise. He’d slept with her twice already and both times after they had indulged in more than a few drinks.

“Don’t you like me?’ She pouted, taking another step toward him until he was almost backed up against the wall.

He screwed his eyes shut.

“Of course I like you,” he said, his voice strained. 

Daenerys forced herself not to smile, he had just openly admitted that he liked her, that she meant more to him than just some easy lay.

Her plan was working.

She sat down heavily on the couch.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see him.”

She gazed into Jorah’s eyes, searching for the good man that was still inside of him, somewhere…

“Take me to your bed, Jorah.”

He ran a shaky hand over his face.

“Daenerys - “ he said, his voice low. There was something about her that got under his skin and made him want to do whatever she asked. He would have little resistance if she continued to push him. 

“Just to sleep,” she said, cutting off whatever protest he was about to make. “Just to sleep, nothing else.”

She could see the internal struggle within Jorah as he debated what to do. He wanted her, hell, he’d even started caring about her, would he be able to control himself?

He nodded towards his bedroom.

“Are you not coming with me?” She asked as he remained standing in the lounge.

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” he replied, turning his back to her as he pulled out his phone. Tywin Lannister would find out sooner or later that he’d let Cersei go off with the government official and he only hoped that particular shit storm would be one he could deal with tomorrow.

Jorah moved around the lounge and kitchen of his apartment as he waited for Daenerys to settle herself in his bed. His eyes caught the picture of he and his father in better times, causing another stab of pain to lance across his heart.

His father would be ashamed of the man his son had turned into. He had ruined the family name and would forever be known for his criminal acts. For every good deed he’d done in the Navy, his actions of the past three years wiped out any good will he had with anyone who knew him.

Daenerys was playing a dangerous game getting involved with him and no matter how much he might want to deny it, she was beginning to mean more to him than just a casual fling and an easy lay.

The bedroom was dark when he entered, and he could see Daenerys’ face illuminated by the light from the hallway. Her eyes were closed.

She was sleeping.

He pulled off his shoes and sat on the opposite side of the bed, watching Daenerys sleep. With a deep sigh, he lifted his legs onto the bed and scooted behind her, wrapping his arms protectively around her while still fully clothed. His only hope was that his presence would mean that she would be able to sleep peacefully. 

As much as he hated to admit it, it was no coincidence that he also slept better when she was by his side.


	9. Falling

Daenerys smiled as she woke to find Jorah’s arms still wrapped protectively around her.

She could feel the stubble of his beard tickling the skin in the crook of her neck with each deep breath he took as he rested his chin there.

Her plan had worked.

Jorah’s actions the previous evening were a clear indication that he was starting to feel something more than just lust for her.

Any other man would have taken advantage of her ‘state’ and used it as an excuse for an easy lay, but Jorah had resisted her at every turn. He had slept fully-clothed beside her and done nothing more than hold her close throughout the night and Daenerys couldn’t deny that it felt good to be held by him.

She tried to disengage herself without waking him, but she heard his groan as he rolled onto his back and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

“Morning,” he said, his voice still slightly croaky from last night. “How are you feeling?”

She turned to look at him and smiled.

“Better than last night,” she replied. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile and pulled himself off the bed, removing his creased white shirt and looking in his wardrobe for a t-shirt to wear.

Daenerys bit her lip as she watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he moved. She forced herself to look at the demon tattoo on his shoulder, a stark reminder that he wasn’t one of the good guys.

He was her target and nothing else.

“I can drive you back to your place if you like?” He said, taking off the tuxedo trousers and changing into a pair of dark blue jeans.

She turned away from him for a moment, realising that she hadn’t thought far enough ahead as to her next move. She was making it up as she went along. She had to make sure she hid anything that gave away her true identity if she ever took him back to her place. 

“Could you drop me at work?” She asked.

She would need to give him an address of the company she supposedly worked for and make it seem like she worked there. Hopefully he would drop her off at the door and not insist on walking her to her desk personally.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Sure,” he answered. “Would you like a coffee before we leave?”

She nodded her head, all too easily imagining the easy domesticity that could develop between them. Had their lives and roles been different, she could see them living a happy life together.

_This whole thing is a lie, nothing more._

She’d been telling herself that repeatedly for days now. There was no room in this operation for feelings. Feelings only got in the way and made things harder. There was no way that she wanted to care about Jorah when they finally took the whole Lannister organisation into custody. She would need to walk away and never look back, knowing that if she did, she would be lost.

* * *

And so started a pattern of behaviour of Jorah collecting her from the office and driving her back to his apartment each night. There were nights when the flames of passion grew between them and others where he simply held her. She didn’t push him on what he did during the day and he seemed equally as disinterested in what she did with her time too.

Each time he dropped her at the office building, she would wait for a while, making sure his car had pulled away before leaving and making her way back to the police station. It would be then that DC Edd Tollett would make snide remarks about how she’d spent her evenings.

“You haven’t actually got anything useful from him yet,” Edd remarked earlier today. “All you two do is either fuck or watch TV.”

“And what would you rather I do?” She countered, “just randomly drop into the conversation that we’ve planted listening devices around his apartment?”

“I just think you’re getting a little too cosy with him, that’s all,” Edd frowned. “It’s been weeks now and we still haven’t got anything from him.”

“He never leaves me in his apartment alone, so it’s not like I can just go around tearing the place apart looking for some incriminating evidence and he’s not stupid enough to leave anything important laying around.”

“So you’re just going to keep fucking the guy until he lets something slip?”

It was then that DCI Davos Seaworth entered the room and stopped the conversation in its tracks.

“Daenerys is one of the best undercover officers we’ve got and if it takes months to get what we need from Mormont, then so be it.”

“I’m just saying that it’s been a couple of weeks now and we’ve got jack shit to show for it. I think Mormont’s a waste of our time and resources.”

“And when you’re more than just a DC, you can tell me how to run a bloody investigation,” Davos shot back, scowling. “Until then, keep your damn mouth shut.”

* * *

After almost three weeks of staying at Jorah’s apartment each evening, Daenerys decided that the time was right for her to return to her own place - for a few nights a week at least. There were things she needed to do, materials and equipment to prepare and conversations she needed to hold with people she couldn’t let Jorah see. 

He looked almost disappointed when she told him that she’d had a call from the police informing her that Khal had been arrested for a serious assault and denied bail. It was the perfect ruse for her to be able to return to her apartment without raising suspicion.

“I guess I could stay one more night,” she suggested as she wrapped her arms around Jorah. She broke away when she saw him wince.

“Are you ok?” She asked as he took a couple of pained breaths. It was then that she noticed his red and swollen knuckles. “What happened?”

He took a couple of steps back from her.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just a hazard of the job.”

Maybe this was a chance for her to ask more about what he did for a living?

“You said you work in private security, are you a bodyguard or something?”

Jorah frowned and popped a couple of painkillers in his mouth, swallowing them down with a glass of water.

“Something like that,” he answered vaguely.

“For who?”

Jorah opened his mouth to answer, he was so desperate to tell her the truth but knew she’d hate him if he did. She thought he was one of the good guys, someone who spent their days protecting those weaker than him. She would not be able to stand the sight of him if she knew that he was nothing more than a common thug who meted out justice to anyone who the Lannisters felt had wronged them.

Her turned his back on her, reaching into the cupboard for two whiskey glasses and pouring each of them a drink.

“It’s a high profile client, I’m not allowed to discuss it,” he said as he handed her a glass. 

“How high profile are we talking?” 

She would nudge him a little further to see how much information he was willing to share.

“Very,” he answered, swallowing the whiskey in one gulp.

“Celebrity? Government? Royalty?”

Jorah closed his eyes and sighed.

“Daenerys, I shouldn’t have told you as much as I have,” he replied. 

She took a step towards him.

“But I worry about you,” she told him, cradling his bearded cheek with her hand. “You’re hurt,” she said as she held his other hand in her own and kissed his swollen knuckles.

Part of him wanted to pull away from her touch. He couldn’t let her get any closer than she already had. He was starting to develop real feelings for her, having never felt this way about anyone since he met Lynesse.

Lynesse had brought him to ruin and the last thing he wanted was to do the same to Daenerys. There was something so pure and innocent about her and he didn’t want to taint that. Sooner or later he would drag her down into the murky depths of the criminal underworld and he knew from experience that once the Lannisters had you in their grip, they would never let you go.

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” Daenerys continued. She could see the two halves of him warring with one another. She could see the desperation in his eyes to confess to what he truly was. There was a part of him that was still good and true, she just needed to keep using that to her advantage.

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

“I care about you,” she continued, ghosting a kiss across his lips. “If you’re in some sort of trouble, I want to help you."

It was agony to tear himself away from her, but he had to before he fell any further. His defences were weakened when it came to Daenerys. There was something about her that made him want to confess to everything, although he knew he would lose her for good if he did. It wouldn’t take much more prodding for him to let the walls around his heart crumble and so he did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately, carrying her to his bedroom so that he could lose himself in her touch. It would silence the demons in his head to the point where he could no longer hear them - being with her always did.

He knew, just like he did with Lynesse, that he was starting to fall in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it.


	10. Vengeance

Daenerys had returned to her own apartment three days ago and Jorah still felt her absence keenly. The bed seemed much too big without her and his sleep was far from settled when he was away from her. There was something about holding her that kept the worst of the demons that haunted him at night at bay.

He was tired and frustrated, especially after the latest order he’d received from the slimy Petyr Baelish – a man he trusted about as far as he could throw.

Once again, Baelish had told him that the job was simple and all too easy for a man of his talents and once again it had turned out to be disaster. Baelish told him that Tywin Lannister wanted a couple of Robert Baratheon’s drug dealers roughing up in retaliation for one of their own dealers getting his head kicked in after finding himself in the wrong part of the city one night.

At least the slimy lawyer hadn’t asked him to go after some poor innocent civilian this time. It would be a simple job - find the man responsible for beating the Lannister’s dealer and give him a taste of his own medicine. 

Except Jorah wasn't expecting the gun that the man pulled on him.

It was fortunate that the dealer seemed to barely know one end of the gun from the other and Jorah managed to barrel into the skinny youth and wrestle with him for the gun. The pistol went off and Jorah fully expected to look down and find himself bleeding and was shocked to find the lifeless eyes of the dealer staring back at him.

The fight was down at the docks and so Jorah rolled the dead body off the pier and watched it sink under the water before throwing the pistol as far as he could into the murky waters. With any luck, no one would ever find the body and any evidence of their fight would be washed away by the water.

Washing the traces of blood from his hands, Jorah stood in the kitchen of his apartment, seething at yet another mess the Lannisters had let him walk headlong into. He would wring Baelish’s neck personally the next time he saw him.

Drying his hands on a towel, he grabbed his phone from the kitchen table as it began to ring.

He scowled when he saw lawyer’s number flash up on the screen.

“What?” He barked into the phone.

“Come now,” Baelish responded. “Is that any way to talk to a friend?”

Jorah was tired and pissed off and in no mood for anyone’s mind games.

“What do you want?”

If the lawyer was unnerved by the aggressive tone in Jorah’s voice, he hid it well enough that the other man couldn’t hear it.

“Did you deal with the little problem we asked you to?”

“I dealt with it,” Jorah growled.

“Rumours are that gunshots were heard down at the docks earlier today,” Baelish said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?”

Baelish knew damn well that it had everything to do with the man he was baiting.

“You were asked to deal with the situation, not make it worse, Mormont.”

Jorah could feel his anger getting the better of him.

“Then maybe you should have told me that the man was carrying a fucking gun in the first place!”

“An oversight,” Baelish countered in that simpering voice of his.

“A fucking oversight that could have got me killed!” Jorah shouted down the phone.

Baelish let out an oily chuckle.

“You were a marine, Mormont. A man of your skillset should have been able to take him out easily…but perhaps you’ve been a little distracted lately… after all, you left Miss Lannister to her own devices at the gala and Mr. Lannister is not a man who tolerates any kind of insubordination…maybe you need reminding of what’s at stake here…”

Baelish let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a moment.

“But no matter,” Baelish continued, as if he hadn’t just threatened him. “Mr. Lannister wishes to know if you dealt with the situation appropriately. There will be no trace left of the dealer, correct?”

Jorah pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep breath.

“He’s at the bottom of the pier, along with his gun,” Jorah answered tiredly.

“Excellent,” Baelish responded. “Mr. Lannister will be most pleased."

* * *

DS Daenerys Targaryen made her way into the squad room, preparing to spend another day trying to track down the whereabouts of Jorah Mormont’s missing family. There was something about their disappearance that didn’t make sense to her. There seemed to be no trace of them anywhere and no one had heard from them in years. Everything from Jeor Mormont’s death, to the rest of the family disappearing and Jorah’s descent into the criminal underworld…it was all connected somehow…

“Had a good night?” DC Edd Tollett smirked at her as he sat at his desk.

She was tired of this game already and in no mood to rise to his bait.

“Nothing special,” she replied. “How about you?”

Edd waved his hand dismissively, barely paying his colleague any attention as he clicked on an audio file sent via the listening devices Daenerys had placed in Jorah Mormont’s apartment.

She sat up straighter in her chair when she heard Jorah’s voice.

“Then maybe you should have told me that the man was carrying a fucking gun in the first place!”

She’d never heard him raise his voice before.

“A fucking oversight that could have got me killed!” Jorah shouted down the phone.

Despite only hearing Jorah’s side of the conversation, it was clear that something bad had gone down last night.

“He’s at the bottom of the pier, along with his gun,” Jorah answered tiredly.

The rest of the audio clip was the sound of their target throwing items around his apartment, clearly seething with anger.

Edd silenced the rest of the clip.

“Seems like lover boy has a bit of a temper on him, doesn’t it?”

Daenerys scowled at her colleague. He was trying to get a rise out of her any way that he could.

“I bet that’s why his wife left him,” Edd mused as he tapped at his lip with the end of his biro. “He’s a trained killer, makes sense that all that time in the Navy turned him into a monster.”

Daenerys bit her tongue, resisting the urge to jump to Jorah’s defence, knowing that if she did it would only give Edd and her other colleagues more ammunition. They were already dropping subtle comments into the conversation, remarking that maybe she was getting a little too close to their target…

One thing that Daenerys knew for sure was that Jorah Mormont was no wife beater. He had been respectful and gentle with her the whole time she had known him. Yes, there was passion between them, but Jorah had never forced himself or his will upon her, he had never taken more than she was willing to give him.

“Maybe we should bring him in now that we have him bang to rights for at least one murder,” Edd suggested.

Daenerys shook her head. Jorah Mormont was merely collateral damage and the operation would not be over until they had enough to bring the Lannister empire down for good.

It had been three nights since she’d last seen Jorah and he’d not replied to any of the text messages she sent him last night. It was only upon hearing the audio clip that she realised why.

Well, if he wouldn’t come to her, she’d seek him out instead.

* * *

Daenerys walked into the Jailhouse, not surprised to see Jorah sitting on his usual stool at the bar. She had tried his apartment first and when she received no answer, made her way to the bar that they’d first met at.

She sidled up to him and made herself comfortable on the stool, ordering a scotch for herself and one for Jorah.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” she said, watching the barman.

She caught him running a hand over his beard from the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t have been good company,” he replied.

“Who said anything about talking?” She shot back quickly, and it was enough to earn a wry smile from him.

Jorah swirled the scotch in his glass before swallowing it in one.

“I’m not very good company tonight either.”

“Again, who said anything about talking.”

She watched as indecision flashed across Jorah’s features. All he needed was one more gentle prod.

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

“I’ve missed you.”

She smiled inwardly as he dropped enough money on the bar to pay his tab before holding out his hand for her to take.

Jorah unlocked the car as they walked toward it. Daenerys caught the flash of something from the corner of her eye just as she heard shots ring out and felt herself pushed to the ground.

Jorah pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans and returned fire, half-crawling and pulling Daenerys to the relative safety of his car. It seemed like an age, but he’d managed to get the passenger door opened and pushed her inside, shouting at her to keep her head as low as possible.

He waited for a pause in the shooting, knowing that whoever was firing at them would need to reload at some point. Sensing his opportunity, Jorah made a run for the driver’s seat, shoving the keys in the ignition before speeding away from the parking lot.


	11. Out On A Limb

“What the hell was that all about?” Daenerys said as Jorah drove the car through the streets, checking in the rear-view mirror repeatedly to see if they were being followed. “Why was someone shooting at us?”

Jorah ignored the question.

“Are you ok?” He asked, breathing heavily.

“Who was that, Jorah?”

Again, he ignored her question as his hands clamped onto the steering wheel as he continued to drive as far away from the bar as quickly as he could.

“I have no idea,” he answered, and it was only when Daenerys glanced at him that she could see the way his hands shook as he grasped the steering wheel. He was still breathing heavily despite it being several minutes since he’d run to the car.

“Jorah?” She said worriedly, noticing how his face had paled. She could see the sweat forming on his brow. “Are you ok?”

He brushed off her concern before groaning as a wave of dizziness hit him and the car weaved dangerously across the road.

“Pull over,” Daenerys said, pulling his leather jacket away to find the left side of his t-shirt slick with blood. “You’ve been shot.”

He looked down in surprise before shaking his head to clear it.

“They might still be after us.”

His voice was becoming increasingly shaky.

Daenerys realised that they didn’t have time to waste. Jorah was losing blood and it would only be a matter of time before they crashed.

“Pull over and let me drive you to the hospital,” she insisted.

Jorah shook his head.

“No… No hospitals.”

“Jorah, you need medical attention. You’ve been shot!”

“No!” he shouted, although his voice was becoming weaker by the minute. “Please, Daenerys. No hospitals.”

Taking a look at the street signs, Daenerys saw they were only a block away from her apartment building.

“Take the next left,” she instructed.

Jorah turned his head to look at her, his eyes already having that far-away look that meant consciousness would soon desert him.

“Where are we going?” He mumbled, following her instructions and pulling into an underground parking lot.

Daenerys let out a shaky breath when they pulled up. Climbing out of the car, she ran round to the driver’s side to help Jorah up as they stumbled towards her apartment. He was growing weaker and her only hope was that he would have enough strength to stay upright while they took the elevator to the fourth floor. If he collapsed now, she knew there would be no way she could get him back up again by herself.

They seemed to crawl their way to her apartment door, but somehow Daenerys managed to drag him to her bedroom and deposit him onto her bed before Jorah’s eyes rolled up into his head and he finally passed out.

She grabbed towels from the bathroom and held one to Jorah’s side, dismayed as the blood started to seep through. Looking down, she could see the left side of his jeans were also soaked in blood and she knew that if he lost much more he might not have a choice in going to a hospital.

A hospital would be the best place for him, but he had pleaded with her not to take him there and with good reason, no doubt. Whoever had taken a shot at them tonight would probably try again and would have no qualms about shooting an injured man in a hospital full of witnesses. She’d invested too much in Jorah to lose him as a resource now.

Mind made up, she pulled out her phone and dialled a familiar number.

“Sam, it’s Daenerys. I need your help.”

* * *

Daenerys stood in the doorway of her apartment, ushering Dr. Samwell Tarly inside as he carried a backpack full of supplies.

“Where is he?” Sam asked as she showed him through to her bedroom.

His eyes widened when he saw a bloodied figure laying on the bed.

Sam started unpacking, pulling out tubes and dressings from his bag. “When was he shot?” 

“About thirty minutes ago,” she answered in a shaky voice.

Sam looked over his patient, removing the blood-soaked towel. It earned a low groan Jorah.

Sam gave his old friend a pointed look.

“He needs to be in a hospital.”

Daenerys shook her head.

“We can’t. Please, Sam,” she pleaded. “I need you to trust me.”

They had known each other for years, since their school days in Essos. There was no one in the world that Sam trusted more than her.

“I could lose my license,” Sam replied, although his mind was already made up. He swore an oath to protect all human life and he wasn’t going to break it now.

“Have you got a flashlight?” Sam asked as he cut away Jorah’s t-shirt. “I need to see how deep the bullet’s gone.”

Daenerys nodded her head and returned swiftly from the kitchen with torch in hand.

“Hold it steady,” Sam instructed and pulled at the wound.

It brought Jorah back to consciousness with alarming speed.

“Fuck!” Jorah shouted, making a grab for Sam’s hand.

“Jorah, he’s here to help you,” Daenerys crooned, using her free hand to wipe some of the sweat-soaked locks from the injured man’s forehead.

Sam reached into his back and popped a number of pills out, handing them to Daenerys.

“Tell him to take these, it might help with the pain a little.”

Daenerys frowned.

“Can’t you give him something stronger?”

She knew that Sam would need to dig around the entrance wound to retrieve the bullet. Was he intending to do it while Jorah was still conscious and without anaesthetic?

“I couldn’t just walk out of the hospital with a syringe full of morphine,” Sam snapped at her. “It was the best I could do at short notice.”

Daenerys realised that she’d already asked too much of her oldest friend.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Sam nodded, keeping his focus directly on his patient.

“Do you have any vodka?” Sam asked.

It seemed like an odd question to ask at a time like this.

“Why?” She asked.

Sam let out a deep breath as he readied his scalpel.

“Because he and I are both going to need it,” he said, gesturing to his patient.

The next twenty minutes seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly as far as Daenerys was concerned. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as Sam finally pulled the bullet from his patient’s side.

Daenerys watched as Sam stitched the wound and placed an adhesive dressing over the area.

She removed the cloth from Jorah’s mouth as he lay on his side panting for breath, his eyelids fluttering as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

Pulling off his bloodied latex gloves, Sam wiped at the sweat on his own brow.

“Can you bring your coat rack in here?”

She did as instructed, despite not understanding the reason why. It soon became clear when Sam hung a bag of clear fluid and a bag of O negative blood before inserting a line into his patient’s arm. He gently moved Jorah onto his back, elevating his head with several pillows.

“This was all I could get,” Sam said.

“Will it be enough?”

Sam pulled himself wearily to his feet.

“It’ll have to be.”

He followed Daenerys through to her kitchen, making sure that the bedroom door was shut as he left the room. Sam nodded gratefully for the steaming cup of coffee she placed in front of him.

“Will he be ok?”

Sam took a sip of the scalding liquid.

“I’ve done everything I can…but if there are complications…you’re going to have to take him to a hospital whether you want to or not.”

“Thank you,” Daenerys replied quietly. “I owe you.”

Sam waved the thought away. He would do anything for her.

“Daenerys, I have to ask…do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

She was a cop and a bloody good one at that, but Sam would always worry about her. The man lying in her bed was most likely some sort of criminal, otherwise she wouldn’t have asked him to risk his medical license and treat him here. It reminded him of those horrible few years as an Army doctor on the frontlines. He’d never been made of the right stuff to be able to deal with that and had thought life as civilian doctor would be much more straightforward and yet here he was, using guerrilla tactics and treating injuries with little or no medical supplies to hand.

He knew that she wouldn’t be able to divulge much of her current operation, not even to him.

“He’s important to me,” Daenerys said. “I need him.”

Sam didn’t look convinced.

“I’ll stay here until the transfusion’s finished and leave you with a couple of bags of saline and some pills for the pain, but then I need to get back to the hospital before people start asking questions.”

“What do I need to do once you’re gone?” Daenerys asked him, feeling the fatigue hit her all at once. 

“I’ll show you how to change the saline bags before I go, and I’ll leave you with some antibiotics. You need to make sure he takes them…what we just did puts him at high risk of infection. Keep the wound clean and change the dressings every six hours.”

Daenerys nodded her head.

“Just promise me one thing?” Sam said as he drained the last of his coffee. “Whatever it is that you’re mixed up in…be careful, ok?”


	12. Leverage

Daenerys stood outside her apartment, waiting for her superior DCI Davos Seaworth to answer his phone.

“Everything ok?” Her boss said in his deep Geordie accent.

“I take it you heard about the shots fired outside the Jailhouse?” Daenerys said, running a tired hand through her hair. It had been an eventful night and she felt ready to drop, the last thing she wanted was a drawn out conversation with her superior.

“I’m guessing Mormont was involved,” came the dry reply from the DCI.

Daenerys looked down at her trousers, surprised to see blood on them.

“He’s here,” she replied. “I had to call in a favour with an old friend. One of the shots found its target.”

She heard her boss suck in a breath.

“How bad?” He asked.

“He’ll be down for a few days. He lost a fair bit of blood.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” DCI Seaworth suggested. “This might be the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

Daenerys was puzzled.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

“What better way to get him to trust you?” Seaworth said, more to himself than her. “You could have dumped him outside the nearest hospital and left him there, but you stuck your neck out for him instead. We can use that to our advantage.”

Daenerys bit back on an acerbic retort. Her boss was right, Jorah Mormont was nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game. It had taken weeks to get him to this point, but maybe the shooting would be enough to show their mark that Daenerys could be trusted. It was an opportunity that was too good to miss, the likes of which they might never get again.

“I’m going to get something sent over to you,” her superior continued. “We need to make sure we clone Mormont’s phone while he’s too out of it to notice what’s going on. I’ll get one of the team to drop the equipment to your apartment.”

“And what do you want me to do in the meantime?” Daenerys asked, suddenly feeling weary enough to fall asleep on her feet.

“Play the doting nursemaid and see if Mormont lets anything slip?”

The man’s words sounded callous and Daenerys had to remind herself yet again that the man lying injured in her bed was a means to an end and nothing more.

* * *

_He’d hardly been given time to process that his father was dead when, upon a nod of the head from Tywin Lannister, he saw Sandor Clegane drag his aunt Maege into the room._

_“Get off of me you ugly fucker!” She snarled at her captor._

_Maege was battered, bleeding, and bruised, but her stubborn nature refused to let her captor see her pain. Mormont women were just as tough as the men, even tougher in some respects, and Maege was no exception. It was clear to see that when the Lannisters came calling she had neither gone quietly nor willingly._

_He was still on his knees on the floor, reeling from the fact that has father had been murdered by these monsters and couldn’t help but let out a pained sob as his four cousins were dragged into the room after their mother._

_He let his head fall to his chest, the Lannisters held everything he ever cared about in the palm of their hands and would crush them at a moment’s notice if he didn’t do as they asked._

_He saw Tywin Lannister’s polished Italian leather shoes walk towards him as he kept his gaze on the ground._

_He felt his chin being lifted forcefully._

_“I do hope I’ve made my point sufficiently, Mormont,” Tywin Lannister sniffed, as blasé as if he were talking about closing a business deal. “It would be such a shame if your womenfolk were to go the same way as your father.”_

_“Let them go,” he growled. “They have nothing to do with this.”_

_Tywin sneered at his prey._

_“They are my leverage, Mormont. Should you refuse me again, I’ll have the Clegane brothers tear them apart piece by piece while you watch on.”_

_He felt both the air and resistance leave his body in a rush. He had no choice but to do whatever the Lannisters asked._

_“I’ll do whatever you want, just let them go.”_

_His pleading words fell on deaf ears as Tywin Lannister and his men laughed._

_“Do you think me a fool, Mormont?” Tywin boomed. “You’ll steal them away the moment my back is turned. You are a clever and resourceful man…I need to make sure you tow the line until your debt is paid.”_

_“I’ll find the money,” he begged. “Please…just let them go.”_

_“Your family will remain in our care until we feel your debt is sufficiently paid. Put a foot out of line and they will be the ones who pay for your mistakes…I’ll make sure that we start with the youngest one first.”_

_Jorah risked a glance at his family. Little Lyanna was only five years old, yet she scowled at her captors with little sense of fear._

_“Don’t do it, Jorah,” his eldest cousin Dacey said, raising her chin in defiance to stare at the man gripping her shoulder painfully. “We don’t bow to these Southern pigs.” The insult earned her a smack from Gregor Clegane, leaving her with a bloodied nose._

_He knew he had no choice but to do as the Lannisters asked._

_“Ok,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll do whatever you want but if you lift even a finger to them, I promise that I’ll kill you all.”_

_“You’re hardly in a position to make threats, Mormont,” Tywin Lannister scoffed. “But you are worth more to me alive than you are dead, for now at least. You have my word that your family will be well looked after, no expense will be spared on their living arrangements but if I hear even one word of some sort of foolish plan to rescue them, I will kill them all painfully and slowly and make you watch every last second of it. Are we clear?”_

_He could feel Maege’s eyes boring into the back of him. Honour and pride were everything to the Mormont’s and she would likely never forgive him for bringing such disrepute to their good name._

_He nodded his head as his world came crashing down around him. He felt the tears leak from his eyes as he heard his family being dragged from the room. He would never see them again, of that he was sure, and his only hope was that Tywin Lannister was as good as his word._

_He had no doubt that when he had outlived his usefulness, his remains would be dumped in some nameless place, but he had no choice but to believe that his family would be set free upon his death. They would hate him for the things the Lannisters would make him do, but at least they would live and be free._

* * *

Daenerys was lying on her bed, her eyes focused on the bag of saline that hung from the coat rack, watching as the liquid snaked its way down the tubing and into Jorah’s still form. He’d been unconscious for the most part, although when he had woken, she managed to get him to swallow the painkillers and antibiotics that Sam had left with her.

He began mumbling odd words over the last few hours, names of women she didn’t recognise at first, until she took another look over the case files on her laptop. Jorah whispered the names ‘Maege’ and ‘Dacey’ several times in his sleep - the name of his aunt and one of his cousins.

While there was nothing strange in dreaming about family, Jorah had looked anguished as he mumbled their names, shaking his head from side to side as tears leaked from beneath his eyelids. Whatever he was seeing in his dreams was not likely to be pleasant.

His phone had started beeping over the last hour or so, first with text messages and then with several phone calls. Not wanting to wake her target before she had a chance to clone his phone, Daenerys put the device on silent, her eyes drifting to the screen each time it lit up with a new call or message. She was able to see some of the messages as they popped up on the locked phone, the tone of the latest one making it clear that his employers were less than happy that he was not answering them.

The intercom buzzed, making Daenerys jump. She glanced down at the man on her bed, relieved to find that the noise had not woken him.

Making her way to the door of her apartment, she smiled her thanks at the officer who passed her a small box of equipment.

“Everything ok, Sarge?” The male officer asked, peering over his superior’s shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of their fabled target. No doubt news of the shooting was all over the station by now.

Jorah Mormont had become some sort of freak show for the officers at the station and it appeared to be open season on any aspect of the man’s life. There were rumours and lurid conversations being whispered all over the station about her undercover operation and while she had always viewed her target as a means to an end, the thought of Jorah’s every secret being poured over by dozens of people was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable as far as she was concerned. Yes, he was a criminal, but he was also a human being too and Daenerys knew only too well that most things were never as black and white as they first appeared to be.

“Anything else?” She replied, maintaining eye contact with her colleague until he backed away with a knowing smile.

“See you back at the station,” he called over his shoulder, a pointed reminder to Daenerys that she had a job to do and one that didn’t include playing doting girlfriend to the criminal currently lying in her bed.


	13. Revelations

Daenerys had been dozing when a groan from the man lying beside her woke her from her slumber.

“Where?” Jorah slurred, trying to lift his arm, alarmed to find a tube taped to the back of his hand. Still not fully awake, he began tugging at the tubing, trying to pull it free.

Daenerys reached out a hand to stop him.

“Leave it alone, Jorah,” she told him gently as he allowed her to place his arm back on the bed. “We can take it out in a few hours.”

He let out a pained breath, his hand instantly going to his injured side as he growled.

“What happened? Where am I?” He asked groggily.

She wasn’t sure how much she should tell him. It would work in her favour to keep him here as long as possible, but sooner or later she knew that she would need to let him leave. He was in no fit state to do so at the moment, though.

“Someone shot at us,” she answered him, trying to be as vague as possible.

He turned to look at her, his eyes still slightly glazed.

“Are you ok?” He asked, with genuine concern in his voice. “Were you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“You got hit in the side,” she said. “You’ll be ok, though.”

She could see the mental jigsaw pieces fall into place before a look of terror crossed his features.

“Where am I?” He said, beginning to panic. “I need to go. I can’t be here, they’ll find me.”

He was still too weak to pull himself from the bed and she was able to stop his movements easily.

“You’re in my apartment, no one knows you’re here,” she reassured him.

“No hospital?”

She brushed a few of the sweat-soaked locks from his forehead.

“No hospital,” she reassured him. “You told me not to take you.”

He remained quiet for so long that Daenerys thought he might have fallen asleep again.

“Is it still in there…the bullet?”

Daenerys frowned. How the hell was she going to explain this one?

“I have friend…I called in a favour. He took it out.”

Daenerys let out the breath she was holding when Jorah finally nodded, still too groggy to question her further on what had happened the night before.

She sat and watched over him for a while, becoming slightly concerned when sweat began beading on his forehead. Sam had warned her it might happen and so she popped out two of the antibiotics Sam had left with her and ordered Jorah to swallow them down with a glass of water.

His eyes drifted shut and he soon began to mumble the names ‘Maege’ and ‘Dacey’, along with several others that she didn’t recognise. Dipping a cloth in a bowl of cold water, she wrung it out and placed it on his forehead as Jorah continued to mumble.

His eyes fluttered open.

“I have to go,” he said, pushing weakly at her arms.

She was able to place them back down on the bed easily.

“Go where?”

He looked at her, confused by the question.

“They have them,’ he said as his eyes continued to flutter, keeping him somewhere been consciousness and sleep.

“Who?” She asked, wiping his face with the cool cloth. Perhaps now was the time to finally get some answers from her target.

“They have my family,” he whispered, almost sobbing. “They’ll kill them if I don’t do what they want.”

Was this just the ramblings of a fever-addled mind, or was there some truth to what Jorah was saying? It didn’t seem that far-fetched an idea that he turned to a life of crime to save his family. It would certainly answer the question of why no one had seen Jeor Mormont’s sister and nieces since his murder.

“Who has them, Jorah?” She asked, shaking his shoulders to keep him awake. “Who has them?”

He was losing the battle to stay conscious but managed to whisper, “The Lannisters…”

* * *

After placing the SIM card back in Jorah’s phone, Daenerys spared one last look at the man lying asleep in her bed before leaving her apartment.

It would probably only be a matter of hours before Jorah began to regain both consciousness and clarity and she would have no choice but to let him leave her apartment. 

He would need clothes though.

His t-shirt was cut in two by Sam the night Jorah was shot and his jeans were bloodied and useless and she had nothing in her apartment that would even fit him. She was taking a risk in grabbing his keys and heading to his apartment, but it was too good an opportunity to miss. She would be free to take a closer look through his home without the risk of getting caught.

Checking that she wasn’t being followed, Daenerys let herself in to Jorah’s apartment, firstly looking for suitable clothes to take back to him, but then to look through cupboards and drawers in the hopes that she might find something she could use as part of her undercover operation.

Rifling through a kitchen drawer, she stumbled upon an envelope with a bloody fingerprint on it. She gasped as her eyes fell on the photograph of five females who clearly bore a family resemblance to Jorah. Standing behind them was Gregor Clegane, a known associate and henchman of the Lannister family.

It was all starting to make sense now, how Jorah had descended into a life of crime, falling from grace and bringing dishonour to his family name…why his surviving family had not been heard of or seen for years. The Lannisters had leverage over him, they were using his family to get what they wanted, and Jorah had towed the line for the sake of his family. 

The Lannisters were notorious for their cruelty and she was certain that they would kill Jorah’s remaining family without a second thought and it was for that reason alone that Jorah had committed the many crimes he had.

She had seen the good in Jorah from the moment she met him, he was doing the only thing he could to keep his family safe. He would sacrifice himself if it meant keeping them from harm.

A part of her wanted to go back to her apartment and confess to Jorah, to tell him that he was being played in order to bring down the Lannister family for good. Surely he would understand that both he and the police wanted the same thing - to rid the city of the criminal empire that controlled it. 

She knew Jorah wouldn’t see it that way. All he would see was the lies and betrayal and he would never trust her or her colleagues again. She had been informing on him for weeks, trying to find a way into his life so that she could gather enough intel and evidence to finally bring the Lannister family and their cohorts to justice.

Daenerys pulled out her phone to call her superior DCI Davos Seaworth. She needed to relay the news that Jorah wasn’t the violent thug they thought he was, he was a pawn in the Lannisters game and at their mercy as much as the rest of the city was. Seaworth was a good man and would see that Jorah’s actions were only those of a man under extreme duress. Sure, he’d done unforgivable things, but he had done so for good reason. Perhaps when all of this was over, they could offer Jorah a deal that would see any time served for his crimes to be minimal.

A knock at the door caught her by surprise. Daenerys quickly stuffed the envelope back in the drawer, feeling for her gun only to realise that she wasn’t wearing her holster.

She decided to wait the visitor out.

They knocked another three times before she heard a male voice call out.

“Mormont, I know you’re in there. Ignoring us isn’t going to make things any better for you.” She could hear the man let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll wait out here all night if I have to.”

Great, she thought, Jorah would soon wake and find her gone and there was no way she could spend all night hiding away in his apartment. Reluctantly, she opened the door, looking down to find Tywin Lannister's youngest son looking up at her.

“Who the hell are you?” They both said at the same time.


	14. Friend or Foe?

“Who the hell are you?”

Daenerys looked down at the small man standing in the hallway outside Jorah’s apartment. She recognised him instantly. Tyrion Lannister - otherwise known as the Imp – was the youngest son of Tywin Lannister and it was common knowledge that Tyrion had spent his life trying to earn both his father’s love and forgiveness. Rumours circulated that Tywin hated his youngest offspring and that he could barely bring himself to look at the dwarf.

Tyrion smiled benignly, looking Daenerys up and down as if appraising her.

“Mormont sure has the damnedest luck when it comes to women,” Tyrion remarked, shaking his head ruefully. “And who might you be?” He asked.

Did Tyrion recognise her? She had spent most of her life in the East, far away from the mainland after the death of her father and eldest brother. She and her brother Viserys had been bundled away in an effort to protect them from those who meant them harm. Having spent the first two and a half decades living in fear, Daenerys steeled her courage and returned to the city in which most of her family had been slaughtered. Her only hope was that her family would have been forgotten in the intervening years and their name would no longer be one that interested the criminal empires that ruled the lands.

“Rhaenys,” she answered, deciding not to reveal her real name for the time being. She needed to know how much Tyrion knew about her family’s history first. 

Tyrion held out his hand. Daenerys stared at it for a number of moments before shaking it.

“I’m enchanted to meet you, Rhaenys,” Tyrion replied with a smile.

“And you are?”

He smiled at that. Perhaps he hadn’t given her enough credit, thinking her to be another blonde bimbo that Jorah had brought back to his apartment for a quick shag.

“Tyrion Lannister,” the small man said, looking around Daenerys in an effort to find Jorah. “Is Mormont in? I have a rather important matter to discuss with him.”

What should she tell him? 

If she told him the truth, would he believe her?

“He’s not here right now,” she answered vaguely. “I can give him a message if you like?”

Tyrion gave her a knowing smile.

“Mormont never leaves girls alone in his apartment,” Tyrion said triumphantly, pushing past Daenerys as he called out for Jorah.

Folding her arms, she watched as Tyrion looked in every room of the apartment before returning to the lounge with a look of concern on his face.

“Where is he, Miss. Rhaenys?”

The way the small man was looking at her was beginning to unnerve her.

“I told you he’s not here.”

“Then where is he?”

The look Tyrion was giving her made it clear that he would not leave unless she gave him an answer.

“He’s at my place,” she said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because something happened.”

Her answers were deliberately vague. She wasn’t sure how much was too much when it came to answering the Imp’s questions. Could he be trusted?

Tyrion walked around the lounge, his arms behind his back as he pondered.

“Mormont hasn’t been answering his phone for the past twelve hours. His employers are most upset…it’s important that we speak to him.”

“You’re one of his employers?” Daenerys asked, already knowing the truth.

Tyrion smiled at her.

“Not just a pretty face, are you?,” he remarked. “Mormont is employed by my father.”

“Doing what?”

She knew she was pushing her luck, but maybe Tyrion would give her an honest answer.

Tyrion was no fool, it would seem.

“He helps my father with his business interests,” the small man answered. “There is something that needs Mormont’s attention, and my father is not the type of man who likes to be kept waiting. It’s essential that we speak to Mormont…I cannot guarantee a positive outcome otherwise.”

Was that a thinly-veiled threat? 

Jorah had mumbled in his sleep that the Lannisters held his remaining family captive and would kill them if he didn’t do as they asked. If she kept her mouth shut and neglected to tell Tyrion of Jorah’s injury, would the Lannisters take it out on his family instead?

She still wasn’t sure what the truth actually was, but she knew that she couldn’t risk gambling with the lives of five innocent girls.

“He hasn’t been ignoring your calls,” Daenerys said quietly. “He’s not been able to answer.”

Tyrion looked at her in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I follow?”

Daenerys fell heavily onto the sofa, playing the role of concerned girlfriend with aplomb.

“We were leaving the bar last night when someone started shooting…the next thing I know, Jorah almost crashed the car. He told me not to take him to a hospital and so I didn’t. That’s why he’s at my place.”

It took Tyrion a number of moments to take her words in.

“Someone shot him?”

She nodded her head, forcing tears to her eyes.

“How badly?”

She sniffed and faked a shaky breath.

“In the side,” she answered after a beat. “I have a friend who is a doctor…he managed to pull the bullet out…he said it was lucky it had lodged in his ribs. Is Jorah in some kind of trouble?”

She could feel Tyrion’s eyes boring into her.

“What did you say your name was again?” Tyrion asked.

“Rhaenys,” she answered, keeping her gaze on her hands as they sat in her lap.

“And your last name?”

It was now or never, if she told him her last name would he recognise it? Would her cover be blown?

The Lannisters were nothing if not resourceful and they would find out sooner or later. Besides, there was something about the youngest Lannister that Daenerys felt she could trust. He had kinder eyes than those of his father and his two older siblings.

“Targaryen,” she said, holding her breath. 

Tyrion Lannister looked at her, his small mismatched eyes boring into her.

“That’s not a name I’ve heard for many years,” he said, stroking his chin. “Any relation to Aerys Targaryen?”

She shook her head and sniffed, her bottom lip trembling. She needed him to believe that she was just some weak woman who’d got themselves caught up in Jorah’s chaotic life.

“I’ve never heard that name before,” she lied. “I grew up in Essos and came here looking for a better life. My father was a farmer and my mother a seamstress.” She wiped at her eyes and looked at the small man. “They’re old now and too frail to work, so I came to the mainland to earn money to send back to them.”

“And how did you and Mormont meet?” Tyrion asked.

Daenerys forced tears to come to her eyes once more.

“Some drunk was trying it on with me in the bar. Jorah jumped in and saved me.”

“Ever the hero, our Mormont,” Tyrion scoffed humourlessly. “And you’re paying back his kindness by sleeping with him?”

Her head shot up at his callous words.

“It’s not like that,” she retorted. “Jorah’s a good man. He hasn’t forced himself on me if that’s what you think.”

Tyrion had the good grace to look sheepish.

“My apologies,” he replied, lowering his eyes. “Mormont is many things, but he’s no monster.”

There was something akin to gentleness in his voice.

He looked up at her again, his face serious.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Tyrion continued, “Mormont’s life is not the kind that you want to get messed up in. It may be better for everyone if you cut ties with him now.”

The small man pulled his mobile from his pocket and called his father.

She waited with baited breath, was she about to meet a gruesome end?

“Mormont’s not AWOL, someone took a shot at him last night.”

Daenerys’ eyes followed Tyrion as he paced around the room.

“He’ll be down for a few days,” she heard Tyrion reply as he winced at his father’s raised voice. “I’ll get Bronn onto it straight away,” he nodded before terminating the call.

Get Bronn onto what? Checking up on her story? Killing the remaining Mormonts?

She watched as Tyrion left and called over his shoulder to her.

“Until we meet again, Miss. Targaryen.”

* * *

Jorah woke suddenly, gasping as the movement pulled at his injured side.

He looked around in confusion, realising that the bed he woke up in was not his own.

Where the hell was he?

With a great deal of effort, he pulled himself up, lifting the bedsheet away and glancing down at the dressing on his left side. He could see small spots of blood dotting its surface.

The last thing he remembered was pushing Daenerys to the ground as shots rang out across the parking lot of the Jailhouse bar.

Steeling himself, he pulled himself from the bed and winced as he shuffled over to the door. He grabbed the dressing gown and tied it loosely, fighting a wave of dizziness as he stumbled into the hallway, not recognising his surroundings.

Wherever he was, it was somewhere he’d never been before, although there was a distinctly feminine scent that filled his nostrils as he walked from one room to the next. It was a smell he recognised almost instantly.

Daenerys.

But she was nowhere to be seen. Had he been dumped in some sort of Lannister safe house and left to his own devices? What had happened after he and Daenerys made it to the car? Had someone taken her and killed her?

The room was starting to spin as he felt the dizziness take him once more. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed at the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady himself.

He heard the door open and realised that he didn’t have his gun. Was whoever had shot him coming to finish the job?

He made a grab for the first thing he could find, clinging onto the knife as if his life depended on it. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, but a knife would be no match if his attacker had a gun.

Jorah held the weapon in shaky, sweaty hands as he waited for the assailant to make his way to the kitchen. At least he would have the element of surprise on his side. He lifted the knife higher, ignoring the shooting pain in his left side. He would strike first and hope it was enough.

The door opened slowly and as his eyes fell onto the person standing on the other side, the knife he held fell to the floor with a loud clang.


	15. Telling Tales

Daenerys gasped as she looked across the kitchen. Jorah was standing in her dressing gown, staring vacantly at the kitchen knife he brandished at her only moments ago.

She ran to his side; he was pale and sweating profusely.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” She admonished him and placing an arm around his back to guide him to her bedroom.

He looked at her, his adrenaline having run out moments before she made a grab for him as he wavered dangerously on his feet.

“I woke up,” he said, his voice distant. “I didn’t know where you were…or if you were alright.”

Daenerys felt a tightness in her chest at his words, he was concerned about her safety. He cared about her.

She placed him back down on the bed and covered him with the bedsheet.

“I figured you’d be awake sooner or later, so I went to your apartment to grab some clothes.”

Despite his ragged state, he stared at her with a mixture of anger and fear.

“You did what?”

I took your keys from your jacket and let myself into your apartment. I grabbed some clothes and came straight back here.” Daenerys replied, opening her backpack and showing Jorah the items. “We had to throw your other ones out.”

She neglected to add that she had also cloned his phone and looked through his apartment while he lay unconscious in her bed. Or the fact that she’d bumped into one of the Lannister clan at his apartment.

He ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair.

“We?”

“You were hurt…you wouldn’t let me take you to a hospital, so I called in a favour with an old friend.”

She handed him a glass of water, instructing him to drink it all.

“How long have I been here?” He asked.

“About twenty-four hours,” she answered honestly, seeing a look of pure terror cross his handsome features.

“Where’s my phone?” He asked, clearly panicked.

She handed it to him with a frown, watching the blood drain from his face as he saw the amount of missed calls and messages and who had sent them.

He pulled the bedsheet off and tried to get out of the bed, grimacing as pain lanced through his injured side.

“I have to go!”

She managed to push him back toward the pillows with ease.

“Jorah, it’s ok,” she tried to reassure him. “You don’t have to worry.”

He shook his head.

“No, you don’t understand…”

She debated as to what to tell him, how would he react if she admitted how much he’d let slip in his fevered state?

“One of your employers came looking for you at your apartment, I told them what happened.”

She winced at his cry of anguish.

“Who?” He said shakily, “Who came looking?”

She knew she needed to play dumb in order to keep her cover intact.

“Someone called Tyrion?” She replied. 

They both looked down at the phone as it beeped in Jorah’s hand.

He read the message with a sense of trepidation.

**Father knows not to expect you for a few days. Things have been taken care of, Mormont…you have the damnedest luck with girls, you miserable, ugly bastard. You have three days, use them wisely.**

He had never been quite sure which side the small man was truly on, but the Tyrion had at least calmed the waters as far as Jorah’s dealings with the man’s father was concerned, although he clearly hadn’t been able to resist the urge to goad him at the same time.

Jorah let out a long, shaky breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he closed his eyes.

Daenerys looked him, folding her arms across her chest.

“Now that we know you don’t have anywhere to be, I think it’s time that you start answering a few of _my_ questions…”

* * *

DCI Davos Seaworth sat at his desk, picking up his mobile phone several times to check for further messages from DS Daenerys Targaryen. The last contact from her was inform him that her attempt to clone Mormont’s phone had been successful and that she would relay any pertinent intel as soon as she had it.

They would have to tread gently with this new source of information knowing that Mormont and his employers would be suspicious if their criminal enterprises were to suddenly start getting raided. As much as it pained him to do so, they would need to sit on the evidence until they had enough to put every last member of the Lannister gang in jail for the rest of their lives.

The phone chirped suddenly, Davos picked it up without bothering to check who the caller was.

“I have some information that may be of interest to you, Detective.”

He’d recognise that snide voice anywhere. What new information did the Spider have to share with him this time, and how much would it end up costing him?

“What’s your price?” Davos asked, feeling decidedly old at that moment. He was getting far too long in the tooth for all this cloak and dagger bullshit.

“This piece of information is free, Detective,” the Spider replied. He could hear the man sneer down the phone. “Consider it a sign of my goodwill and intention to continue our mutually beneficial working relationship.”

Nothing the Spider shared came without some sort of clause. Their informant only ever sold his knowledge for profit. Was he playing the very same game with the Lannisters too?

“I’m listening,” Davos replied, gripping his phone a little tighter.

“My little birds tell me that your detective made an unannounced visit to Mr. Mormont’s apartment this evening. She bumped into Tyrion Lannister.”

Davos felt his heart thump painfully in his chest? Had she been made? Was the reason she hadn’t been in contact because she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere?

“The two of them had quite the conversation it would seem, and Mr. Lannister is more than a little intrigued about your lovely young detective.”

“Is she ok?” Davos asked, in no mood to play games. “Tell me that she’s ok.”

“Fear not, Detective, Miss. Targaryen is fine, although the Lannisters are now looking into her… she’s become a person of interest to them.”

“Is that some sort of threat?”

The Spider chuckled quietly.

“They will only find out what I choose to let them see,” he replied cryptically. “Your detective’s cover is still intact; it will be up to her to make sure it stays that way. Rumour has it that things are becoming complicated as far as her relationship with Mormont is concerned.”

“Meaning?”

“One of them is going to have to come clean sooner or later. Neither of them are stupid enough to believe that the other isn’t holding out on them. I assume that it would be in your detective’s best interest to make sure Mr. Mormont cracks first.”

“How much will it cost me for you to keep her safe??” Davos asked. The Spider had been leading to this point all along.

“I will do as much as I can, Detective. It is in both our interests that this operation is successful, but one cannot mitigate against affairs of the heart.”

Davos narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

“My little birds tell me that there may be more than just a mutually beneficial transaction blooming between your detective and your target. Things tend to get messy once feelings are involved.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come now,” the Spider tittered. “You are not some naive young boy, are you?”

“Are you trying to tell me that they’re falling for each other?”

“What is love, anyway?” The Spider answered cryptically. “The heart is such a strange organ, its hold on the mind can be…quite alarming…”

“Enough of this bullshit already,” Davos cut him off. “Are you telling me to pull Detective Targaryen from this operation?”

“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that…” The Spider replied. “Pull her from the operation and it will be obvious that she was nothing more than a plant and that is not an insult the Lannisters will take lightly and it won’t just be Mormont and your detective that pay the price either.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest you start praying that your detective is stronger than she looks. There is a storm coming, Detective, and it remains to be seen if it is coming for us all…”


	16. Back to Business

“Daenerys, is everything ok?” DCI Seaworth asked, letting out a long sigh of relief. It had been three days since he’d last heard from her and following the cryptic call from the Spider, he’d become increasingly concerned about his detective’s welfare.

“I’m fine,” she reassured her superior, trying to put his mind at rest. “Jorah just left to meet with the Lannisters. I haven’t had a chance to check in until now.”

DCI Davos Seaworth was a smart man, he hadn’t missed the fact that his detective was now referring to their target as ‘Jorah’ instead of the usual ‘Mormont’. Perhaps the Spider was right, maybe Daenerys and their target were getting too close to one another.

She’d spent three days holed up in her apartment with their target, surely they would have spoken about just what kind of work Mormont did?

“Had any interesting conversations with Mormont then?”

There was silence on the line that stretched to the point where Davos feared his detective had hung up on him.

“When I came back from his apartment, I told him we needed to talk…that he needed to come clean about who he was working for.”

“And did he?”

“Eventually,” Daenerys answered. “That first night…he was talking in his sleep and when he woke…I don’t think he realised what he was saying.”

Davos gripped the phone tighter. Had Mormont let something slip that they could use to bring the Lannisters to justice? Daenerys was playing an increasingly dangerous game and the sooner he could pull her out of there, the better as far as Davos was concerned.

“What did he say?”

“He admitted that he works for them and when I asked him why…he told me something that makes a lot of sense…why a good man would turn into a criminal almost overnight.”

Davos bit his tongue. The things Mormont had done made it clear that he was not a good man, not by a long stretch of the imagination.

“His ex-wife,” Daenerys continued, “she got into a lot of debt….took out loans in Jorah’s name with the Lannisters.”

_So this is all about money?_ Davos thought.

Love had never made the world go round; it was money. It always had been.

“His ex ran away and left Jorah to deal with her debt and when he couldn’t pay…they told him there was another way he could repay what his wife owed them.”

“That he came and worked for them?” Davos said suspiciously. “He could pay off his debt by bringing innocent, hard-working people to heel for Tywin Lannister’s benefit?”

“He refused,” Daenerys replied.

“Not for long it would seem,” Davos scoffed. “It didn’t take long for the lure of money to be too much, did it?”

After a long pause, Daenerys finally spoke.

“Jeor Mormont’s death wasn’t a robbery gone wrong; it was a message from the Lannisters to Jorah after he refused their offer. The missing finger mentioned in the Jeor Mormont case file…they gave it to Jorah in a box. Jorah lied when the investigating officer asked about the significance of the finger, but his father always wore a ring with the family crest on it…a bear. The reason that we can’t find Jeor Mormont’s sister or nieces? It’s because the Lannisters are holding them hostage…Tywin will have them killed if Jorah puts a foot out of line.”

Davos drummed his fingers on his desk as he digested the story that Daenerys was giving him. It was clear that Jorah Mormont was a cannier man than they had given him credit for. Daenerys was no debutante when it came to working cases and taking statements, and yet she seemed to have fallen for Mormont’s sob story hook, line, and sinker.

“Did you hear what I said, sir?” Daenerys said, her voice rising. “Jorah is just as much a victim as anyone.”

“Bollocks,” Davos snorted. “I can’t believe that you’re falling for the old ‘hooker with a heart of gold’ line, it’s the oldest trick in the book. I expected better from you, Sergeant.”

“It’s the truth, sir,” Daenerys insisted.

“Then where is your proof?” 

“When I was at his apartment, I found an envelope with a photo inside. I think it was his aunt and cousins and Gregor Clegane was standing behind them.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Davos shot back. “How do we know that the whole thing wasn’t staged and that they’re all in on it?”

“With all due respect, sir, I think you’re wrong.”

Davos pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, caught between wanting to pull Daenerys from the operation for her own safety and bringing the book down on Jorah for the many crimes he’d already committed in the name of the Lannisters. It was clear that Daenerys’ judgment was already clouded when it came to Jorah Mormont.

“With all due respect, Sergeant,” Davos spat, “bring me some evidence if you think what Mormont has told you is true.”

“I will,” she replied firmly. “Jorah isn’t the monster you think he is.”

_And he’s not the angel you make him out to be either,_ Davos thought.

“Just be careful, Daenerys. Things are getting serious. The Lannisters are already looking into you…checking out your story.”

“I thought as much when I bumped into Tyrion Lannister at Jorah’s apartment,” she replied. 

“What’s your take on him?” Davos asked, relieved to be standing on less testy ground with his subordinate.

“I know he spoke to his father about Jorah getting shot. He seems like the most decent of the Lannisters.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Daenerys,” Davos warned. 

“Sir, about my cover…I managed to avoid giving anything away when Jorah came clean to me, but the Lannisters - “

“It’s still intact,” Davos cut her off. “Our informant is taking care of that, but it means that we’ll have to be careful about checking in with you. They’ll already have people watching you so you can’t come anywhere near the station. When you do make contact, make sure you’re not compromised.”

“I know what I’m doing, sir. I’ll be careful…I’ll get word to you when I can.”

“This is it, sergeant. Are you ready?”

“I’ve spent my whole life working for this, sir. I’m ready.”

* * *

“Glad to see that you could make it, Mormont,” Tywin Lannister drawled as Jorah made his way into the man’s office. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

Jorah shot a panicked look at Tyrion who had assured him that no harm would come to his family during his absence. It wasn’t as if he’d chosen to get shot and be laid low for several days.

Tywin laughed darkly as he caught Jorah looking at Tyrion.

“Don’t fret, he told me what happened. I hear that someone took a shot at you?”

The sly way Tywin was looking at him made Jorah suspect that perhaps he had something to do with it.

“Bronn cleaned up your mess,” Tywin said as he continued to look at Jorah from behind his desk, as if debating what to do with him. “Robert Baratheon was less than pleased that you killed one of his men, but I think we’ve come to a suitable recompense as far as that matter is concerned.”

Jorah didn’t see the fist coming until it was too late as he sank to his knees, pain radiating from his injured left side as he groaned loudly.

“Tyrion may have swallowed your story without proof, but I am not a fool,” Tywin said as he nodded to Gregor Clegane to drag Jorah back to his feet. He felt his shirt being torn open and looked down to see fresh blood spotting the dressing covering his wound.

His eyes still watering with pain, Jorah found a folder thrust under his nose by the simpering Petyr Baelish.

“Seeing as you’re not fully fit, we have a nice, easy job for you to do,” the lawyer said, returning to his corner of the room. 

Jorah opened the folder and found several surveillance photos of a dark-haired young man. Short in stature, the young man looked sullen with his flowing hair tied back and a beard covering his cheeks and jaw.

“What’s the job?” Jorah ground out, pain still throbbing in his injured side.

“We want you to watch him,” Baelish replied.

“And do what?”

“Just watch him for now, Mormont,” Tywin answered. “You can read the dossier while Dr. Pycelle patches you back up again.”

Jorah felt himself being pushed towards the door and out of Tywin Lannister’s office as he looked down at the name on the front of the folder:

**Jon Snow.**


	17. The Watchers

Jorah glanced down at the folder once more as he sat in his car waiting for Jon Snow to leave his apartment block.

There wasn’t much in the dossier of the young man except for a few vital statistics and a suggestion of some of the locations he’d been seen frequenting in the recent past.

Jorah thumbed through the sheets of paper, looking for the one detailing Jon Snow’s career in the military.

Jon Snow, the bastard son of an Army general by the name of Eddard Stark, followed in his father’s footsteps, much like Jorah had his own father. It appeared that Snow had been earmarked for a place in the special forces squadron not long after his passing out parade as an infantry soldier.

As with the Navy, the Army were secretive when it came to the work of their elite units. Such teams often undertook missions that would be deemed unlawful if the public were ever to hear of their exploits. No, marines and special forces units did the dirty work, hiding in the shadows and allowing their colleagues to take all the glory.

Special forces soldiers were elite killing machines, able to take out the enemy from a distance while barely making a sound. They knew how to cover their tracks and leave no trace of their presence behind.

And they also knew when someone was following them, which made the seemingly ‘easy’ job all the more difficult for Jorah. He knew he should proceed with extreme caution when it came to Jon Snow and that he would need to employ every skill he’d ever learned in the marines to ensure that his target was none the wiser when it came to his presence.

Jon Snow had left the Army under something of a cloud, after a section of the special forces unit broke away, murdering dozens of innocent civilians and stealing millions from the famed city bank of Bravos, across the Narrow Sea.

The dossier on Jon Snow reported that he had learned of his colleagues plans to raid the bank’s coffers and tried to prevent it, only to be shot and left for dead by his own men. The majority of the details on what happened in the aftermath of the event had been redacted from official reports, but Jorah knew enough about the military to suspect as to what happened next.

After leaving the army, Jon Snow had joined a vigilante group called ‘The Watchers on the Wall’ - made up primarily of former special forces and black ops soldiers who were disenchanted with the way of life in the armed forces and tired of fighting battles where seemingly only the innocent got hurt.

Again, Jorah had heard rumours of the ‘Watchers’ and the kinds of jobs they took on. Their credos was clear - only unmarried men could join their group and upon swearing an oath of allegiance they would renounce any lands, riches, or families they once had. The men who joined the ‘Watchers’ were loyal only to their brothers in black.

Placing the folder back in the glove box, Jorah fidgeted in the driver’s seat of his car that was parked far enough out of sight so as not to look conspicuous. He winced as he moved, his hand shooting to the bullet wound on his left side.

He couldn’t remember much past he and Daenerys being shot at and had woke in a room he didn’t recognise. The hours in between were nothing more than a blur, but it was clear that he’d given more away than he’d intended to when it came to Daenerys, so much so that he was forced to confess to her as to who he worked for.

He expected her to kick him out of her apartment with a warning never to speak to her or see her again. What he hadn’t expected was for her to sit quietly, listening as he unburdened himself to someone for the first time since his nightmare with the had Lannisters begun.

He hadn’t dared look at her as he admitted that he was nothing more than a criminal hired by the Lannister family to do their bidding. He left out most of the gruesome parts but revealed enough to let her know that he was far from the good man she insisted he was.

He even told her about his family and how they were being held hostage by Tywin until the crime lord decided that Jorah’s debt was finally repaid. It was poor as excuses went, but Jorah decided that it would be best to be honest with her.

Daenerys had proven to be more than met the eye when she had kept her word and not dumped him at the nearest hospital after the shooting. Instead, she called in a favour and risked the safety of herself and others in an effort to help him. He hadn’t questioned her on how she knew a doctor who would make an unofficial house visit, he was only glad that she had.

His heart dropped at the thought of Daenerys coming into contact with Tyrion Lannister. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Tywin’s youngest son, but he seemed more trustworthy than either of the other siblings - not that was saying much for any of them though. Tyrion had bought him a few days to recover from the shooting and had smoothed things over with his father in terms of his absence.

If he had any sense, he would have called it off with Daenerys there and then, but now she was just as much a part of this as he was. Jorah was not naive enough to think that the Lannisters would not look into her, knowing that they would see the beautiful young woman as another reason for Jorah to toe the line and do as he was told.

He would never have called it off though, his heart was already too far gone to allow him to pull away from her, even if he wanted to. He was falling for her and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it either. He was heading for destruction, he knew it, and yet he couldn’t seem to care. Like a moth to a flame, a beautiful woman would always be his downfall.

He put those thoughts aside as he caught sight of the young dark-haired man leaving the apartment building. Dressed head to toe in black with his long hair tied back, the boy looked both brooding and menacing and Jorah had no doubt that the man would kill him without a second thought if he realised he was being followed.

He had been tailing the young man for days now and his routine was almost as habitual as Jorah’s own. There was no need to follow Jon Snow’s car when he already knew where to find the man.

Jorah rubbed a tired hand over his face, draining the last of the now-cold coffee from the takeaway cup and wincing as he took a deep breath. The wound on his side was healing well, but the twinges of pain were annoying and would prevent him from holding his own in any one-on-one fistfights he might find himself in.

Pulling out his phone, he called Baelish and gave a succinct report of his target’s movements, hanging up before the greasy lawyer could taunt him further. Baelish seemed to think that he had some sort of power over him, but the oily solicitor was merely a pawn that Tywin Lannister shuffled across his board just like the rest of them.

After giving his target a large enough head start, Jorah turned the key in the ignition and pulled away slowly, taking his time to get to his next destination.

* * *

Ever cautious, Daenerys opened her laptop and logged onto the VPN and secure desktop that she’d been provided at the start of this operation. To anyone else, the laptop would look like a standard device that anyone could use, but with a few clicks of a mouse and two passwords, she was able to log in to a secure connection back at the police station. Wary of listening devices, she chose to send secure written messages instead:

**Dracarys: Jorah has just left the apartment. He hasn’t told me much other than he’s been asked to follow someone.**

**OnionK: Has he told you who?**

**Dracarys: Negative. Messages on his phone mention a name: Jon Snow. Have you ever heard of him?**

**OnionK: No. I’ll look into it and see what I can find out. Keep working on Mormont, though.**

**Dracarys: Things like this take time, I think I have his trust, though…he’s not as guarded around me anymore.**

**OnionK: Squeeze as much as you can from him. We might not ever get another opportunity like this; we need to make the most of it.**

Daenerys faltered for a moment. Jorah was a human being and one who was stuck in an impossible situation. It didn’t sit well with her to think that he’d end up being no more than collateral damage when the house of cards they’d built together came tumbling down. She cared about what would happen to him once the operation was over.

**Dracarys: We should be looking into the disappearance of Jorah’s remaining family too.**

This time it was DCI Seaworth who took several moments to respond. His reply was blunt and to the point.

**OnionK: Your job is to work Mormont, nothing else.**

Daenerys slammed the lid of the laptop down, severing the link with her superior officer back at the station as the realisation that she was falling in love with the man she was meant to betray hit her like a ton of bricks.


	18. Only You

Jorah knocked on Daenerys’ door and smiled as she opened it.

“Hi,” she said sweetly, standing aside to let him in her apartment. She eyed the package in his hands. “You brought dinner?”

He gave her a shy smile, hoping that she hadn’t eaten yet.

It had been six days since he had confessed the reasons why he was working for the Lannister family and things had been slightly awkward between them ever since. He was hoping dinner and a quiet night in would help repair whatever seemed to be going wrong in their relationship.

The word ‘relationship’ brought him up short. There was no point denying it, he was falling for her and hoped that she felt the same way too.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, following her to the kitchen and watching as she opened a bottle of wine and handed him a glass.

She nodded her head and took in his tired appearance.

“Long day, huh?” She said, tasking a sip of her wine and opening the two packets of fish and chips. “Wow, you really know how to treat a girl,” she teased.

“I have my moments,” he shrugged, feeling the awkwardness between them slowly slipping away.

Jorah had spent the last few days tailing Jon Snow. It was boring, mind-numbing work, but at least the Lannisters weren’t sending him out to scare protection money out of innocent business owners.

No, the Clegane brothers were doing that and probably using more force than was necessary.

He had always made a point of threatening violence without actually using it and it was often enough to make people hand over the hard-earned cash from their till. He had no doubt that the Clegane brothers would use any force they felt necessary to achieve the same result.

Jon Snow was predictable, always following the same routine, day after day. It frustrated Jorah to know that he had been given such a menial job, but at least he didn’t have to worry about anyone punching him in his injured side. 

Although the wound was healing well, it still hurt like bitch, particularly if he tried to move too quickly.

Soon enough there would be an expectation of him to resume his normal duties and the thought sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Daenerys asked, popping another chip in her mouth.

Jorah shook his head, relieved when she didn’t try to push him on it, little knowing that she had access to his phone and could read every text message and listen to his voicemails whenever she wanted to.

Her superior, DCI Seaworth, hadn’t come up with any useful information about Jon Snow that she hadn’t already gleaned from Jorah’s phone anyway.

“How was your day?’ Jorah asked, turning the question back on her.

“Nothing special,” she shrugged. “Unless you count the printer running out of toner.”

Jorah mimicked a shocked expression.

“Wow, sounds like an emergency. How did you cope?”

As much as her guilty conscience begged her to, she couldn’t tell Jorah that she’d spent most of the day contacting her colleagues at the police station through encrypted messages. As far as Jorah was aware, she was nothing more than an office worker.

Knowing that the Lannisters would put a tail on her, Daenerys needed to be even more careful about her comings and goings, spending most of her day in the office building that remained her cover story. Clocking in at nine A.M and back out again at five P.M, whoever the Lannisters had sent to spy on her would have nothing to report other than where she bought her morning coffee and where she headed for lunch.

Daenerys licked the remnants of her dinner off her fingers.

“These are seriously the best chips I’ve ever tasted,” she said, swallowing the rest of the red wine. “Where did you get them?”

Jorah shrugged. 

“Just a little place I know.” He dare not add that it was of the places the Lannisters asked him to shake down on a regular basis. 

He ate the rest of his food in silence before Daenerys took him by the hand and motioned for him to follow her from the kitchen. “Where are we going?” He asked.

“I was hoping you might like some dessert?”

The way she was looking at him made her intentions crystal clear and he followed her to the bedroom willingly.

He cocked an eyebrow when she sat on the corner of the bed and pulled him towards her with his belt, he took it as an open invitation to crawl on top of her and kiss her deeply as the two of them attempted to remove each other’s clothes.

Between heated kisses and frantic hands, they were soon both naked and Jorah gently repositioned them until they were under the covers before resuming his tortuous assault on her body with his lips and hands, both of which quickly found their way to her most intimate area. He smiled when he felt her tug his hair painfully as she reached her peak and whispered his name like a prayer.

He wasn’t anywhere near done with her yet as he worked his way back up her body, aching to feel her around him and to hold her where it felt so good. He looked into her lust-filled eyes, silently asking for permission. She nodded while biting her bottom lip, both of them letting out a shaky breath as he pushed inside her.

He held himself still for a number of moments, ignoring the annoying twinge in his side, looking her deep in the eyes as he moved slowly within her, her eyes silently pleading for him to go faster. He would deny her though, he wanted to take his time with her. 

His place was torturously slow as he set a languid pace with his heated strokes, never breaking the eye contact between them as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her deeply, all the while still moving inside her.

Their breaths mingled together as they moved as one, their union feeling different from those that had come before. Whatever was happening now was something much deeper than two people just having sex as the passion built between them. It was no longer about sexual gratification; they were connected by something much deeper than just physical pleasure. There was a level of intimacy that had never been present before.

He would have kept up his slow, deliberate thrusting all night, but he could sense Daenerys nearing her peak once more, feeling her beginning to twitch around his length as her breathing quickened and her face became flushed. He reached a hand down between them to help get her there, holding his own breath when he followed her soon after.

He held himself above her, not wanting to break the intimate contact between them just yet. It was then the realisation hit that they’d not used protection. 

She saw the look of fear on his face as she cupped his bearded cheek tenderly.

“Daenerys,” he began, still trying to catch his breath. “We didn’t - “

She soothed him with a kiss. “It’s ok, I’m on the pill,” she told him, “and it’s not like I’m seeing anyone else.”

He rolled away, running a hand through his hair before propping himself up on his elbow.

“Neither am I,” he replied, using his other hand to tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want anyone else. Only you.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He felt his heart stop momentarily and braced himself for her reaction, fearing that he’d gone too far. Fair enough, he’d not blurted out the ‘L’ word, but it was a declaration that he felt more than just lust for the woman lying next to him.

She silenced his doubts with a sultry kiss and a smile before rising from the bed to make her way to the bathroom to clean up the evidence of their union. By the time she returned to the bedroom, she could see that Jorah was quickly falling asleep.

He looked so unguarded and in that moment it hit her. They hadn’t just had sex, they had made love for the first time and it was an experience that she wanted to repeat, over and over again. She felt more than just a physical attraction to this man, she was falling in love with him, her mind screamed at her to pull away, but her heart was already stolen. The way they had made love made it obvious that he felt the same way too. There was only one way this was going to end, and that was badly, and yet she couldn’t seem to care as he reached out sleepily for her.

As her own eyes slowly drifted shut, Daenerys promised herself that she would find a way to save Jorah from the mess he’d found himself in - reputation and police career be damned.


	19. A Familiar Face

“I need to be at the Jailhouse tonight,” Jorah said, an apologetic look on his face as he kissed Daenerys and climbed from her bed.

She nodded her head, trying to hide her disappointment. It had been several weeks since the attempt on his life at the bar and the Lannisters had insisted that Jorah return to his normal duties. Unfortunately, those duties meant that she spent several nights alone while he frequented the bar, keeping any eye out for any trouble and overseeing the shady criminal dealings taking place there.

With access to his phone data, she had already amassed an array of evidence against the criminal gang, but nothing that would make the charges stick against any of the Lannisters themselves. She had plenty of evidence that would see Jorah be jailed for the rest of his life, but nothing that Tywin Lannister and his brood of children couldn’t worm their way out of.

“Are you coming back here when you’re done?” She asked, watching him get dressed, admiring his lean muscles as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.

“It might be late,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

He was giving her a chance to tell him no and yet Daenerys couldn’t seem to find a way to deny him. She had become far too used to sharing her bed with this man, so much so that it felt empty without him.

“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re here.”

She gave him the look that always seemed to bring out the protective side in him and now that the Lannisters knew she was involved with Jorah, it made even more sense for the two of them to stick together as much as possible. If Jorah had his way, he would never let Daenerys out of his sight.

“Do you need a lift to the office?” Jorah asked as he pulled on his boots and tied the laces.

She shook her head.

“No, I’m good,” she answered, knowing that she needed to check in with DCI Seaworth again this morning. “Text me later?”

He gave her that shy smile, the one he always reserved for her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, kissing her sensually on the lips before leaving the room with one last look at her.

* * *

“Penny for your thoughts?” A gravelly voice asked.

Jorah turned to look at the man on the stool next to him. He would recognise that voice anywhere.

“Barristan?”

He hadn’t seen the man for several years. As with all things, when Jorah had left the Navy it had been with the promise that he would keep in contact with the men he served alongside and yet as the years slipped by, so did his connections with the way of life he’d once known.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Barristan remarked, looking his old friend up and down.

Jorah ran a tired hand over his face, grimacing. He had chased two young drug dealers for nearly a mile before catching up with them and meting out the Lannister brand of ‘justice’ on the skinny meth heads.

He was getting too old for that kind of shit.

Jorah took another swig of his beer and said nothing.

“How’s business these days?” Barristan prodded.

The beer sloshed over the side of Jorah’s glass as he slammed it onto the bar. Barristan merely smiled at him in return, knowing his words had touched a nerve.

“Have you just come here to bust my balls?” Jorah sighed.

Barristan ordered himself a beer.

“I made a promise to your father many years ago that I would keep an eye on you,” Barristan replied. “I’m just checking in to see if you’re ok.”

The mention of his father tore at Jorah’s heart, the man would spin in his grave if he could see the depths his son had sunk to.

“Well, as you can see, I’m fucking dandy,” Jorah shot back, ordering a scotch from the barman. “You’ve done your good deed for the day, you can jog on now with your conscience clear, don’t worry.”

Barristan shook his head and took a sip of his beer.

“You’re just like him, you know. Too fucking stubborn to see reason or ask for help.”

“And I suppose you’ll tell me how proud he would be of me next,” Jorah sneered.

“You’ve done some terrible, unforgivable things,” Barristan replied. “You forget that I’ve known you since you were a little boy. You’re a good man, Jorah.”

“I’m anything but.”

“Look, I don’t agree with half of the things you’ve done…but I know you would have had your reasons… Your father knows that too.”

His temper ignited at the mention of his father and it lit Jorah’s already short fuse. He would have launched himself at the man, had he not caught the smell of a familiar perfume.

“Daenerys? What are you doing here?”

She hadn’t just come out on a whim, the way that she was dressed demonstrated that she’d taken her time getting ready.

She didn’t answer him. Her eyes were locked with the man sat on the stool next to Jorah.

It was Barristan who shook himself from his thoughts first as he held out a hand to her.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss?”

Daenerys schooled her features, hoping that her look of surprise hadn’t betrayed her.

She took his hand and shook it gently.

“Targaryen,” she answered coolly, as if she were daring the man to contradict her.

“Forgive me for saying so,” Barristan continued. “But this is not the kind of establishment for a lady of your quality, my dear.”

“She’s with me,” Jorah growled at his old friend, a clear warning not to mess with her.

Barristan arched an eyebrow.

“I see,” he replied, plastering a smile onto his face. “My mistake. I did not mean to cause offence or speak out of turn.”

“None taken,” Daenerys replied stiffly, taking the stool on the opposite side of Jorah, who could sense the friction between the two of them. He would have preferred to keep them apart, but his full bladder had other ideas.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom, giving both of them a wary look.

“How extraordinary finding you in a place like this, Miss Targaryen,” Barristan said as he sipped at his beer. “And with a career criminal no less.”

After leaving the Navy, Barristan had taken on a private contract from the Targaryen family who had come under increasing pressure to sell their lands and properties to the Lannisters. A feud broke out between the two families with matters soon becoming violent and deadly. It was Barristan who had helped the two youngest Targaryen’s to safety across the Narrow Sea after the death of their father and eldest brother.

He had always kept tabs on the Targaryen children after that, feeling a sense of duty to their father, even though the man had been driven to the brink of madness during his quarrel with the Lannisters. Despite everything, Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen were little more than babes when their home was ransacked and burned to the ground.

While Viserys had met an untimely end trying to reclaim his family’s former glory, Barristan watched on as his sister carefully and methodically built a life and career for herself with one aim alone - to bring the Lannisters to their knees and seek vengeance for her family.

Much had been done to keep her past a secret with few knowing her true identity and heritage, even within the police force. Any wrong step or slip of information would bring the house of cards she’d built around herself tumbling down.

“He has no idea, does he?” Barristan asked.

Daenerys tucked several strands of hair behind her ear nervously.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, refusing to look at him.

“You’re working him, and he has no idea who you really are,” Barristan gave her a thin smile. “You’re stringing him along to get to the Lannisters.”

She refused to look at him. It was unnerving how he read her so easily.

“What do you want?” She asked bitterly. “Money?”

Barristan scoffed, insulted by the question. “I want nothing that you could give me, child.”

Daenerys began to panic, cursing herself for being so needy and wanting to see Jorah. If she hadn’t been so rash, she would have waited at her apartment for him and would never have bumped into the man who could blow her whole operation sky high. All of the lies…they would all come tumbling down around her, leaving her naked in the truth of it all.

“Go then,” she hissed. “Leave.”

She looked at him with pleading eyes. Jorah would soon be back and then what?

Barristan shook his head and finished the last of his beer.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he answered. “Jorah deserves to know the truth.”

The two of them were looking at each other so intently, they didn’t hear the heavy footsteps of Jorah’s boots behind them.

“The truth about what?”


	20. Betrayal

Jorah eyed the two of them suspiciously.

“What is going on?” He said, his voice low.

Barristan looked at him briefly before patting the pockets of his jacket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and went to light it, only to be stopped by the barman who pointed at the ‘no smoking’ sign above the door.

“Shall we?” Barristan asked as his eyes flitted between Jorah and Daenerys, silently asking them to follow him from the bar.

Jorah eyed his old friend dubiously, taking a cigarette and handing it to Daenerys before taking one for himself. Neither of them smoked, but Jorah was aware how many eyes the Lannisters had in their establishments and he’d known Barristan long enough to pick up on his subtle hint.

Several feet away from the Jailhouse bar, Barristan lit his cigarette, blowing out a ring of smoke.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jorah growled, throwing his unlit cigarette to the ground.

Barristan cast a look at Daenerys.

“Are you going to tell him or should I?”

Daenerys looked at the man she had fallen in love with. How would she ever be able to tell him what she’d done?

“Tell me what?” Jorah ground out, balling his fists and barely keeping a lid on his growing temper.

Barristan took another drag from his cigarette, looking at Daenerys before opening his mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” Daenerys cut him off. She took a deep breath, feeling her bottom lip tremble. “Jorah, there’s something I need to tell you…something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Jorah stood silently, waiting for her to continue.

“When we met…it wasn’t just by chance… I knew where you would be.”

Jorah narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were following me?” He asked. “Why?”

“Because I needed you,” she answered, knowing that her response was vague. “I needed your help.”

“Are you in trouble with the Baratheons?” Jorah asked. “Did they send Drogo after you?”

She felt her heart break at the naivety of his question. How long would it take for him to realise that she wasn’t some gangster’s moll on the run and that she was a cop whose job it was to bring he and the Lannisters down?

She shook her head.

“I don’t work at an office, Jorah.”

Her voice was timid and quiet, but Jorah picked up on the shame in it immediately.

His head shot up at her admission.

“Then what is it that you do, Daenerys?” He snapped bitterly, his voice biting on her name. “Do you work for the Baratheons, is that it?”

“The office job was just my cover…” she trailed off, watching as Jorah finally connected the dots.

He took several steps back before tipping his head back and letting out an anguished moan.

“You’re a cop?” He said, running a shaky hand through his hair. “A fucking cop?” He hissed.

It was Barristan who cut in.

“Best keep your voice down, son. You don’t know who else might be listening,” he warned.

Daenerys took a step towards Jorah, reaching out a hand.

“Jorah, please,” she begged him as he took another step back from her. “I can explain.”

“You lied to me…you used me…you’ve reported back everything I’ve ever told you, haven’t you?”

“Jorah, please - “

“Haven’t you?” He shouted, stalking towards her now. “You _betrayed me_ ,” he snarled in her face.

She felt the full force of his anger as he stared at her, his chest heaving.

“Only at first,” she began, “but I’ve lied for you…protected you…I love you.”

“Love?” Jorah spat, “How can you say that? You betrayed me.”

She reached her hand towards his face only to find it swiped away.

“Jorah, please just let me explain - “

“Don’t ever touch me or say my name again,” he growled. “I don’t ever want to set eyes on you again.”

She grabbed him tightly by the wrist.

“I’m not leaving until we’ve talked this through,” she told him defiantly. 

“I’m done talking with you. Now let me go,” he warned her, barely keeping control of his temper. “Daenerys, don’t test me.”

He would never hit her, surely?

She had only ever known him to be a kind and gentle man, but his world had been blown to pieces within minutes.

She released his arm reluctantly and watched him stalk away, knowing that she might not ever see him again.

She had almost forgot about the presence of the other man behind her. The noise of his boot scraping the cigarette into the ground caught her attention.

“I have to make him see…I have to make him understand.”

Barristan shook his head and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“You’ll likely never be alone in his presence again,” he told her.

“Why?” She asked. “Why did you have to do that?”

Barristan looked her up and down.

“Because Jorah’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be lied to, no matter what he’s done in the past. Sooner or later you’ll sell him down the river and leave him to his own devices. Better that it’s now.”

“You’re wrong,” she told him. “I love him…I’ve been trying to help him.”

“By lying to him?” Barristan countered. “His employers will kill him without a second thought if they find out. They won’t tolerate having a mole in their organisation and they’ll take their time making the poor boy suffer before they put him out of his misery. You may very well have just signed his death warrant.”

“Are you going to tell them then?” She asked.

Barristan shook his head.

“I made a promise to Jorah’s father to always look out for him and besides, I made a promise to your father too. There may be others who also know your true identity.”

“No one does,” Daenerys replied. Years of work and effort had gone into keeping it that way.

“And so does Jorah now,” Barristan countered. “That boy is many things, but he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve and has never been able to hide his emotions. It won’t take Tywin Lannister long to realise that not all is rosy in Jorah’s garden and the people he has following the pair of you will report back that the two of you are not seeing eye to eye. Sooner or later Tywin will start asking questions that Jorah won’t be able to answer.”

“Then what do I do?” Daenerys asked desperately. “How do I help him?”

“I think it’s already too late for that. Perhaps it’s best just to walk away and not look back,” he suggested. “You may not have a choice when the truth finally comes out. Once they know you’re the daughter of Aerys Targaryen, they’ll hunt you down across all seven seas if they have to and they won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“No, I won’t run away. I won’t leave Jorah to face this alone.”

Barristan gave her a sad smile.

“I admire your determination, but Jorah is not a man who trusts easily, and he’ll likely never trust you again after this.”

“I won’t give up on him, I’ll show him that he can trust me. I’ll bring the Lannisters down and keep Jorah safe, or I’ll die trying.”

“Those are nice sentiments, my dear,” Barristan replied. “For both of your sakes, I hope you are right, but it may already be out of your hands.”

She watched Barristan walk away. The man might think he knew her, but she had worked too hard and for too long to see all of her efforts come to nothing. More than that, she was in love with Jorah and even if he hated her right now, she would do everything she could to protect him.

Right now he was furious with her, rightly angry at her betrayal and she knew there would be no point in trying to explain herself tonight. He would need time to calm down and only then might he listen to reason and allow her a chance to prove her loyalty to him. She just had to hope that Jorah would not do anything rash or foolish in the meantime.

She was painfully aware that it wasn’t just Jorah’s fate at stake, but also that of his family and that alone gave her hope that Jorah would not reveal her true identity to his ‘employers’. If DCI Davos Seaworth caught wind of her cover being blown, he would pull the operation immediately and then she would be unable to protect Jorah from the fallout that would inevitably follow. Until then, she would keep up the pretence that everything was fine with Jorah and that she was continuing to work him all the while trying to find a way to make him trust her again.

She was playing both sides and playing with fire, but she would not let Jorah burn if she could help it. He might hate her right now, but she was determined to make him see that they were in this together, whether he liked it or not.


	21. Beware the Wounded Bear

“Mormont, remember that you need to be at the warehouse tonight,” Tyrion Lannister called out as he watched Jorah turn and walk away. “We need you there in case Baratheon’s men try to pull a surprise on us.”

Jorah glanced at the small man for a moment.

“I’ll be there,” he growled out.

Tyron frowned as he watched his father’s employee walk away. Mormont had been even glummer than usual, and the length of the man’s unkempt beard made it obvious that something was eating at him.

He shook his head; it wasn’t his place to show concern for his father’s employees. From a young age, Tyrion had become used to the fact that anyone who worked for Tywin Lannister was expendable and could be replaced easily enough.

And yet despite this and the stern way Mormont had always treated him; Tyrion couldn’t help but feel something akin to sympathy for the other man. Ever since his wife had taken a debt out in Mormont’s name, the poor sap had been at the beck and call of his father.

Tyrion had first-hand experience at how cruel and calculating his father could be and took no pleasure in watching Mormont’s world fall apart around him. Not only had the man’s wife left him, Tywin Lannister had seen to it that his father was murdered, and his family taken hostage. Jorah Mormont had been forced into a way of life that was not of his choosing and his only mistake was falling in love with the wrong woman.

And Tyrion knew only too well how that felt.

He had fallen in love with the woman he lost his virginity to, proposing to her only to find that she was a prostitute that his father had paid to fool him into thinking that he could finally be happy and that someone in the world could love him for who he was.

A part of Tyrion hoped that the nice young woman he met at Jorah’s apartment would be the one to bring a little hope to the miserable man’s life but judging by Mormont’s appearance over the last few weeks, he doubted that was still the case.

One look at Mormont’s knuckles made it clear that, if indeed things with the young blonde had ended on a sour note, he was taking his anger out on any of the poor fools who dared to cross his path. Mormont had taken on every ‘job’ thrown his way with little regard for his own safety. The man was on a path to self-destruction, that much was clear.

He had half a mind to call out to the retreating form but thought better of it, he was only an employee after all, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the grouchy old bear. For all of his blustering, Jorah Mormont had never once raised his hand in anger to him, unlike Gregor Clegane. As miserable and disagreeable as the man was, Tyrion knew that he would miss the glowers shot his way. Heavens, he almost found himself liking the man, despite his complete lack of a personality or sense of humour.

* * *

Daenerys took a final look in the mirror, brushing down her top and arranging her hair.

It had been almost three weeks since she was forced to reveal her true identity to Jorah and he had refused to respond to any of her attempts to contact him since then. Even her boss, DCI Seaworth, was beginning to ask questions about the lack of intel on Mormont’s movements.

The worst part had been trying to explain why Jorah had trashed his apartment the night her betrayal came to light. 

The listening devices were still in Jorah’s apartment and she was able access the uploads they sent remotely. To hear his anguish clawed viciously at her heart, even now, knowing that she was the one to cause him such distress.

It was fortunate that her boss seemed to believe her version of events and that Jorah had returned to his apartment after an almighty row with the wily Petyr Baelish. It sounded lame even to her own ears, but it seemed to be enough for her colleagues to buy it.

But now they were asking questions…questions that she couldn’t answer, and it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out that something was wrong. As soon as that happened, the undercover operation would be pulled and they would go after the Lannisters with the evidence they had. Daenerys knew that there was nothing concrete against Tywin or his children and that it would be people like Jorah who would pay the price.

Much like when she’d prepared to meet Jorah for the first time, it was now or never, and her plan would either work or blow up in her face. She knew she had no other choice but to make him listen. There would be a police raid on a Lannister factory tonight and Daenerys had seen from the messages on Jorah’s phone that his presence there would be expected.

Any trust she’d built with him had been destroyed that night outside the Jailhouse, but she would make him see that her words were true, that she would help him get out of the mess he’d found himself in and rid the world of families like the Lannisters for good. 

She would save Jorah _and_ his family.

* * *

Jorah Mormont rubbed a tired hand over his face, wincing as he took a look at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

He’d given little thought to his appearance since the night Daenerys had ripped his heart out and handed it back to him outside the Jailhouse bar.

He cursed himself for being so foolish, for believing that he ever deserved to be happy or that he would find a woman who truly loved him. He had fallen for Daenerys and his heart was now hers whether he liked it or not. 

He had opened up, confided in her, trusted her.

And she had betrayed him from the very beginning.

He remembered little after storming away from the bar that night. He woke up the next morning to find every inch of his apartment trashed and his hands bleeding and swollen.

Better that it was his apartment that took the brunt of his anger, for he knew that had he spent a minute longer around her, he may have done something unforgivable.

He ignored every attempt she made to contact him and threw himself into beating the living daylights out of Tywin Lannister’s enemies during the day and drinking himself to sleep at night.

He’d done some pretty unforgivable things since falling under the thumb of the Lannisters, but fate had once again kicked him squarely in the teeth. He was sick of the cruel and twisted world that he found himself in and a part of him had become increasingly reckless since Daenerys’ betrayal was revealed. 

There was no point living in a world full of pain and deceit and as far as he was concerned, he was done with all of it. Better to go out now than sit and suffer for a moment longer.

Maybe the Baratheons would do him a favour and take him out cleanly, finally then he would be able to leave this torturous existence behind.

His mind began drifting as he drove toward the Lannister factory and turned down a side street leading to the industrial estate.

He slammed on the brakes when a figure jumped out and stood in front of the car. The tyres screeched as the front bumper stopped a mere inch in front of the hooded figure and he gasped when he realised who it was.

Daenerys.

He stared at her as she stood in front of his car, refusing to move before he finally cut the engine and got out, killing the headlights and leaving them in semi-darkness.

“Move,” he commanded, staying several feet away from her.

“Not until you hear me out,” she replied, standing firm.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said before opening the driver’s door once more. “Go home, Daenerys.”

She folded her arms, refusing to budge.

“You don’t want to go to that warehouse, trust me,” she said.

He barked humourlessly.

“Trust you? Why the fuck should I trust you?”

Her stance softened.

“Because I love you, Jorah. I’m trying to protect you,” she pleaded with him. “If we don’t get out of here in the next five minutes, this place will be crawling with cops. They’re going to raid the place and arrest everyone in it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Isn’t that what you want?” He asked her. “Wasn’t that your plan all along?”

She took a couple of steps towards him, relieved when he didn’t back away.

“Not anymore,” she told him softly. “I know I betrayed you…that I broke your trust…but I promise you…. I _promise_ you, Jorah…I want to help you. We’ll get your family back; I swear we will.”

He stood looking at her, debating his next move.

“We have to go, Jorah,” she pleaded with him, catching sight of the headlights of several cars coming their way. “Now.”

He didn’t have time to think of his next move.

“Get in,” he ordered her, starting the engine.

She nodded her head and jumped in the passenger seat as they sped away into the darkness.


	22. Trust

They drove in silence until Jorah finally pulled up on the side of a nondescript country road. He turned the engine off and stared straight ahead.

“Are you going to kill me and dump me here?” Daenerys asked nervously. It would be the perfect spot: dark, no streetlights, and little in the way of traffic. If he decided to kill her there would be no witnesses to the heinous act.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already,” he replied, his voice devoid of emotion as he still refused to look at her.

She knew, without a doubt, that he could kill her in the blink of an eye. He was much bigger and stronger than she was, and it wouldn’t make a difference that she was a cop. He was a marine, a trained killer who could snuff out her life in seconds. She dared to hope that it meant that he still felt something for her, that she could repair the damage to their relationship that her betrayal had caused.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Sorry that you got caught out?” He countered.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you…that I lied to you. I never meant to fall in love with you, but I did.”

She could see the pain etched clearly on his face.

“I know that you hate me right now…but Jorah, I want to make this right. I want to help you,” she pleaded with him.

“I don’t,” he replied sullenly.

“You don’t what?” She replied. “You don’t want to make this right?”

He shook his head, looking at her for the first time.

“I don’t hate you… I wish to god that I did. Why the fuck did you make me love you?” He grimaced.

She reached out a hand to cup his cheek but lowered it when he pulled back.

“Because it feels right, you know it does,” she answered.

He stared straight ahead again.

“Nothing about this is right. Nothing.”

“We can make this work, I promise you,” she told him, begging him to believe her.

“How?” He shot back. “You’re a fucking cop! How the fuck are we going to make this work? We’re meant to be on opposite sides!”

She reached out a hand and placed it on his arm when he didn’t immediately pull away from her.

“You’re a good man, Jorah.”

He huffed at that.

“Tell that to your colleagues.”

“We’re on the same side. We want the same thing.”

“And what’s that?” He asked her bitterly.

“To see the Lannisters pay for everything they’ve ever done to good people like you. Like your father.”

He screwed his eyes shut at the memory of his father. The man who had been murdered because his own son was too stupid to see that a woman was using him. 

And rather than learning his lesson after Lynesse, he’d walked straight back into another honey trap and this time found himself entangled with a cop.

“We’ll take them down, Jorah. I swear we will…but I can’t do it without you. I need you to help me.”

“How?” He said, running a shaky hand over his straggly beard. “How can I when I can’t even save my own family?”

“I need you to trust me, Jorah.”

He snorted. 

“You don’t ask for much, do you?” He shot back. “And what happens when you do bring them down? Are you just going to walk away and leave me to it?”

“I know I’ve betrayed you…that I’ve hurt you in the worst possible way, but I’ve been building a case to show that you never chose to do those things and that you only did it to save your family.”

Jorah shook his head.

“That won’t matter. In the eyes of the law, I’m a criminal. I deserve to go to prison for the things that I’ve done.”

She cupped his cheek tenderly, turning his head to face her.

“You didn’t deserve any of this,” she told him as she inched closer to his face, kissing him tenderly on the lips.

“Don’t - “ he said, trying to fight his body’s urge to pull her closer. As much as he wanted to deny it, he had missed her touch these past few weeks. 

She ignored him as her tongue snaked across his lower lip. He opened his mouth obligingly as his body betrayed his heart and responded to her ministrations.

It felt so good to be back in his arms. She had missed the way his touch set her nerve endings on fire. Her hands were in his hair as she crawled onto his lap, smiling when Jorah moved the driver’s seat as far back is it would go.

His hands found their way under her top as she continued to pepper his face with wet kisses, and she reached down to unbutton his jeans. He lifted his hips obligingly as she pulled his jeans and boxers down to his knees with one fluid motion. She could feel how hard he was for her already and he wasted no time in pulling her leggings down to her ankles so that she could sink down on to him.

They both let out a shuddering breath as they moved together. Daenerys ran her hands through his hair as she rocked over him, her lips finding their way across every inch of his face as his hands held her hips to control their movement. After weeks apart, neither of them could hold of their need for release for too long but Jorah was determined that she would reach her peak first as he reached between them to stroke her intimately to help her get there. He felt himself let go as her walls clenched around him, seeing stars as he held her tightly and rode the waves of his pleasure until finally he was spent.

Reluctantly, Daenerys moved from his lap and returned to the passenger seat as both of them redressed in silence. She had known Jorah long enough to tell that the look on his face was a foreboding to something she would not like.

“If we’re going to do this… If you want me to trust you, it has to be done the right way,” Jorah insisted as he refastened his belt.

“What do you mean?”

“I was meant to be at that warehouse tonight,” he replied. “It’s going to look pretty suspicious when the Lannisters find out I wasn’t there. Your cop friends aren’t going to buy it either.”

“You could lie,” she replied. “Tell them you got a flat tyre?”

He shook his head.

“They’re not stupid. They’ll figure out that something’s not right and when they do…”

Jorah screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to finish that particular thought. It would be his family who would pay, of that he had no doubt.

“What are you doing?” Daenerys asked as Jorah got out the car and pulled his gun out.

Had he been lying to her all along? Was he going to kill her?

“Get out of the car, Daenerys,” he told her, his eyes cold as he stared at the vehicle.

She climbed out reluctantly. 

“Just promise me you’ll make it quick,” she said as she walked slowly towards him, bringing her hands up to protect her face as he shot the glass out of the driver’s window and then fired more rounds into the door and windshield.

“What the hell are you doing?” She said as she watched him continue to fire rounds into the car.

After firing the last of the bullets, he handed her the gun.

“Hit me,” he ordered her, preparing himself for the blow.

“What?!”

“Hit me,’ he repeated, this time more forcefully. “We have to make this look good.”

“Make what look good?”

Jorah let out a tired sigh.

“The only way anyone is going to buy this is if it looks like someone tried to take me out. I need you to hit me until I stop moving.”

She bit back a sob.

“I can’t!”

He placed the gun in her hands, looking her in the eye.

“You have to,” he told her. “It’s the only way.”

“I can’t do it!”

He placed his hands on her shoulders before kissing her gently on the forehead.

“If you love me…if you want me to trust you…then it has to be this way. Do it and then get out of here as fast as you can. Take the gun with you.”

“And leave you here?” She said incredulously. “No, I won’t do it!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be ok,” he tried to reassure her. “I’ve been through worse.”

“You want me to beat you unconscious and leave you for dead?”

He gave her a sad smile.

“Just sit tight afterwards and I’ll call you, ok?”

“I don’t like this,” she told him, her bottom lip trembling.

“I don’t need you to like it,” he replied. “I just need you to make it look good, ok?”

She sobbed as the gun made contact with the side of his head and he fell to his knees and wavered slightly.

“Again,” he ordered her and this time the blow sent him pitching forward. 

He pushed himself back to his knees with a groan as blood dripped from a gash above his right eye as he swayed from his prone position.

“Harder,” he commanded her, hoping this blow would be the one to send him into the blank nothingness of unconsciousness.

With one final swing of the gun, Jorah fell face-first into the dirt and laid still.

Daenerys felt the contents of her stomach lurch wildly at the sight and with one final, tearful look at the man she loved, she ran away from the scene as fast as she could.


	23. Property

“Over there!” Tyrion Lannister called out, spotting Jorah Mormont’s car on the side of the country road. He winced when he saw the bullet holes in the vehicle. “Pull over, Bronn.”

His driver did as he was told, but not before muttering something under his breath.

The raid on the factory was unexpected and took them by surprise, so much so that not even the smarmy Petyr Baelish had a pithy comeback to Tywin Lannister’s foul mood when he learned of what happened.

Dozens of their ‘employees’ were arrested and carted away to the local police station for questioning and while it wasn’t exactly a new thing for the family to deal with, they had more often than not caught wind of the raid before it actually took place.

Baelish procured a copy of the arrest sheets and Tyrion was shocked to find Jorah Mormont’s name not on there. He had already told the grouchy old bear in no uncertain terms that his presence was expected and it yet appeared that the man was nowhere to be found.

Mormont’s behaviour recently had attracted the attention of Tyrion and it wouldn’t be long before his father caught wind and started asking questions of his employee. Mormont’s recent behaviour, along with his no-show at the factory tonight would have Tywin Lannister asking questions that Jorah would not or could not answer.

Tyrion’s mind went straight to the tall, glowering muscleman being some kind of informant for the police. It would make sense, especially considering the fact that the young blonde woman he’d been seeing was now nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was all part of a ploy and the police had spirited Mormont away and placed him in some sort of witness protection programme.

He dismissed the thought almost instantly. Jorah Mormont was many things, but a good liar and actor wasn’t one of them. Those soulful blue eyes of his would give him away in an instant. Mormont was no more a police informant than Tyrion was a footballer with a six pack.

Being an informant just wasn’t Mormont’s style.

But he still had questions about the Targaryen girl. His father might have swallowed the story that Varys gave them. As the Spider told it, the pretty young blonde was only a distant relative of Aerys Targaryen, the man who Tywin Lannister had overthrown to take charge of the city and its criminal empire.

Gregor Clegane had been thorough in his job, the Spider said, the fire had succeeded in killing Aerys’ two youngest children. The Targaryen girl who had arrived on these shores a few years ago knew nothing of what had befallen her uncle, thrice removed. The only thing they had in common was a surname and the striking white hair of which all Targaryens were famed for.

While Tyrion had no reason to refute the Spider’s claims, it still didn’t mean that he believed them to be entirely true either. The Spider was a slippery fellow and along with Petyr Baelish were masters of playing this game while never entirely convincing anyone of where their true loyalties actually lay.

They were thoughts for another time though as Tyrion waddled out of the car and made his way over to what looked like a figure laying in the dirt by Jorah’s abandoned vehicle.

“Bronn!” Tyrion called out, waving the man over to him. “I’ve found Mormont.”

Bronn winced as he peered over to find Jorah Mormont unconscious on the ground.

“That explains why he wasn’t answering his phone, then,” Bronn shrugged.

It was a hunch, but Tyrion managed to track the man’s phone by the GPS signal and it was that which led them to the quiet country road they now found themselves on.

“Mormont, can you hear me?” Tyrion said, shaking his shoulder.

It earned a groan and a twitch of the eyebrows from the prone man.

“Help me get him to the car,” the small man instructed, although there was little Tyrion could do in the way of helping himself.

He ignored the grumbling of his accomplice and merely smiled as Bronn poured the semi-conscious man into the back seat of his car.

Bronn shook his head and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Just make sure the ugly bastard doesn’t bleed on my seats, ok?”

“Right you are,” Tyrion replied, clicking the seatbelt in place across the dazed figure beside him.

It was then that Jorah’s eyes flickered open and Tyrion rewarded him with a pained smile.

“Try your best not to vomit until we get back to yours, old man,” Tyrion said, clicking his own seatbelt in place. “Bronn will have my head if you do.”

* * *

_He shook his head, wincing at the bright light as the bag over his head was removed._

_He had been hit from behind before finding his hands bound behind his back and a hood placed over his head. They had barrelled him into the back of a car and driven for miles before suddenly stopping. He was dragged from the car and into a building of some sort._

_He glared at Petyr Baelish as the man stood in front of him with his chest puffed out and his hands behind his back._

_“I had a feeling that you wouldn’t come quietly, Mr. Mormont…so I took precautions to make sure you arrived on time.”_

_“For what?” He growled, his eyes still adjusting to the bright light._

_They had taken him to a warehouse of some sort. All shining metal and pristine surfaces._

_“Now that you are an employee of ours, it’s important that everyone knows whose property you are,” Baelish replied._

_It was then that he saw what looked like a hospital gurney with straps on either side._

_Fear coursed through him as he pulled at the cuffs binding his wrists together. A heavily tattooed man walked towards him, a needle gun buzzing in his hand._

_“No!” He shouted, trying to wriggle free of Gregor Clegane’s grip._

_Baelish let out a tired sigh._

_“I had hoped that you would be more receptive to the idea, Mr. Mormont,” he said, feigning disappointment. “We can do this easy way - “_

_He lunged for the cocky lawyer, only to be stopped by something sharp piercing his neck._

_His legs began to wobble as his vision blurred before everything suddenly turned black._

_He woke with a gasp, finding his body strapped tightly to the gurney as the tattooist stood over him._

_“Almost done,” the man grunted to Baelish._

_It was then that he felt the stinging pain of the thousands of needle points etched into his skin. The pain radiated across his left shoulder and into the small of his back. He attempted to lift his head only for Gregor Clegane to slam it back down onto the bed. It was enough to make his ears ring and his vision spin violently._

_He bore the rest of the procedure out in silence._

_He was no longer Jorah Mormont, upstanding citizen and former marine._

_He was the property of the Lannister family to do with as they pleased._

Jorah woke with a gasp, the demon’s face on his shoulder throbbing as painfully as it had when it had been etched onto his skin so long ago, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his skull.

He lifted a hand to his head, surprised to feel a dressing taped in place and that he was in his own bed in his apartment with no recollection of how he got there. The last thing he remembered was Daenerys’ tearful face as she hit him for the third and final time before running away as he had asked her to.

He looked down to find himself still fully dressed and he supposed that was a good thing. Whoever found him had picked him up and deposited him on his bed before leaving him there, he supposed.

He sat up carefully, waiting for the world to stop spinning, before pulling himself up and making his way to the kitchen in search of painkillers for the aching pain that seemed to be circulating through his body.

“Ah, he’s awake at last!”

The sound of Tyrion Lannister’s voice made him jump as Jorah turned in the direction of his voice to find the small man pulling a rug off of his legs and lifting himself up from the couch.

Jorah narrowed his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Playing Florence Nightingale to you, what does it look like?” Tyrion replied as he waddled towards him. “How’s the head?”

Jorah turned away, grabbing a handful of painkillers and swallowing them down with water. 

“Like someone tried to crack my skull open,” he answered.

“Indeed,” Tyrion answered. “You’re lucky we found you.”

Jorah frowned in confusion.

“We?”

“Bronn and I,” Tyrion replied. “You weren’t at the factory when it was raided.”

Jorah felt the blood drain from his face. Would the Lannisters buy his ruse?

“I was on my way there when someone started taking shots at me,” Jorah replied, keeping his eyes focused on the glass of water in his hands.

Tyrion looked him up and down.

“Looks like whoever it was did you a favour. The police were crawling all over the factory last night. It’s made a terrible mess of my father’s plans and of course, he asked why you weren’t there.”

Jorah’s eyes shot up to look at the other man.

“Don’t fret, Mormont,” Tyrion replied with a wan smile. “I’ve let him know that someone seems to have it in for your lately. You know, you really should stop making so many enemies, old man. One day, one of them is going put you out of commission for good.”

“I’m only doing what your father tells me to do,” Jorah ground out.

“And it’s a good thing that you’re worth more to him alive - for now.”


	24. Omens

Daenerys sat nervously by her phone having got little sleep the night before. Each time she closed her eyes she could see the final, fateful blow that knocked Jorah to the ground where he laid unmoving.

She only made it a few hundred feet before vomiting violently into the overgrown bushes at the side of the road. She had no real memory of finding her way back home, but had made it somehow.

The childlike, innocent part of her wanted to imagine that Jorah would call her a few hours later to reassure her that he was fine, but her phone stayed silent the entire night.

At least the telephone conversation with her superior, DCI Davos Seaworth kept her busy for a while. He asked several times about Mormont’s whereabouts and why he wasn’t at the factory when it got raided and she gave him a half-baked story of why he wasn’t there, mixing in a little truth by telling her boss that someone had taken another shot at Jorah.

“Looks like bringing him in will do him a favour,” Davos told her.

There was no doubt that should Jorah be arrested that one of Tywin Lannister’s many contacts would find their way into his cell to silence him permanently before he could say anything incriminating about the people he worked for.

No, Jorah wouldn’t be safe anywhere, not until the Lannisters were brought down for good.

The knock at the door made Daenerys jump. She’d been staring at her phone for so long she realised that she must have zoned out.

She crept towards the door quietly, using the peephole to see who stood on the other side. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Jorah standing there. He was battered and bruised, but he was alive, and she’d never been so glad to see him in her life.

She opened the door and pulled him inside before hugging him fiercely.

“Shhh,” he crooned. “It’s ok.”

She held him tighter.

“I was so worried about you,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know if…”

She didn’t want to finish that particular sentence. She imagined several scenarios where no one had found Jorah and he’d died only for a dog walker to find his rotting corpse days later.

He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m ok,” he tried to reassure her. “You’re a lot stronger than you look though,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She broke away from him quickly.

“I hurt you!” She said. Her voice rising along with her distress. “You made me hurt you!”

“There was no other way, you know that, Daenerys,” he told her patiently.

She brushed the hair back from her forehead.

“Did they buy it, at least?” She asked.

“I think so,” Jorah replied. “Tyrion was the one who found me.”

That made Daenerys feel slightly better. She’d only ever met the dwarf once, but he seemed the most decent of the Lannister clan. Granted, that wasn’t exactly saying much…

“Most of Lannister’s men are still being held at the station,” Daenerys said, sitting down heavily on the couch.

Jorah joined her, his leather jacket creaking as he made himself comfortable next to her.

“They won’t talk,” Jorah replied. “Not with what Tywin Lannister has hanging over them and even if they do…” he left the sentence unfinished. Tywin Lannister was a man who would protect his assets at all costs. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he added, taking in her drained appearance.

She broke away to look at the man she had fallen dangerously in love with. It had never been her plan to start caring about him, but from the moment they met, something had sparked between them. 

As soon as their lips met for the first time, it was as if they had kissed before. There was something about being with Jorah that was so familiar, almost as if they had known each other in a different lifetime.

The more she got to know him, the more she found herself falling in love with him, even more so when she realised that Jorah was not the heartless, violent criminal that others claimed he was. 

He was a man who had fallen in love with the wrong woman and ended up paying for it dearly. Yes, he’d done horrible, unforgivable things, but he had done them with the hope of protecting what little remained of his family.

They were in a mess. A horrible, convoluted mess and Daenerys feared that they would never find their way out of it. How could she possibly continue her life’s work knowing that something much more than avenging her own family was now at stake?

Things had unravelled wildly these past few weeks and a part of Daenerys warned her that it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew her true identity. Then the fallout would truly begin, and it wasn’t just her own fate riding on her shoulders.

She was stuck in an impossible situation, no matter which way she turned; someone would end up getting hurt. She was fast running out of options and could feel the net closing in around them and for the first time in her life, she truly feared what might happen next.

It was a horrible, impossible mess and yet she felt a spark of hope that as long as she and Jorah were together, they could somehow find their way through it all.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as tears leaked from her eyes. “I’m so sorry I got you into this. I never meant - “

He leaned into the hand caressing his cheek and kissed it softly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, trying to reassure her.

“You should hate me.”

He gave her a sad smile.

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried. I love you, Daenerys.”

“We’ll figure this out, won’t we?” She asked.

She was no longer and experienced and level-headed cop, she was a woman who was hopelessly in love with the man she had intended to betray all those months ago. The thought of them being apart tore at her heart.

Jorah pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head as they clung to each other, neither saying what their hearts knew to be true.

No matter the path they chose, it would not end well.

* * *

_Glad that the working day was finally over, Daenerys made her way to the coffee shop where Jorah worked humming a jaunty tune to herself knowing that spending the evening with him would make up for the hour-long call Cersei Lannister had subjected her to this afternoon._

_“Hey honey, I’m home,” Daenerys called as she entered the shop expecting to see Jorah sitting at one of the tables waiting for her arrival. Although she couldn’t place it, something didn’t feel right, and Daenerys gasped when she saw tables pushed haphazardly across the room and a broken end of a broom laying on the floor._

_“Jorah!” She shouted as her eyes fell upon his prone form. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts and one of his eyes was swollen shut as he lay in a pool of his own blood. “Jorah, can you hear me?” She said, reaching out a shaky hand to touch him, terrified that she would place her fingers on his neck and find him dead._

_After several tries, she managed to find his pulse as she let out a sigh of relief, pulling her phone from her coat pocket to dial the emergency services. After only two rings Daenerys cursed the operator for not picking up her call straight away._

_“999, what’s your emergency?” A female voice said._

_Daenerys willed herself to keep her voice steady. “I need an ambulance, quickly!”_

_“Ok,” the operator replied. “Are you calling from the location that we need to send an ambulance to?”_

_“Of course I am,” Daenerys shot back. “He needs help, now!”_

_Seemingly unfazed, the operator told her that a unit had already been dispatched and was on its way._

_“Can you tell me what happened?” The operator asked._

_One look at the state of the coffee shop told Daenerys all she needed to know. “I think there’s been a robbery,” she sobbed, keeping her hand on Jorah’s prone body. “They’ve hurt him,” she said several moments later. “Oh my god, they’ve really hurt him.”_

“Shhh, Daenerys, it’s ok,” Jorah crooned, kissing her shoulder as they lay in bed.

Daenerys rolled onto her back and tried to regain control of her breathing.

“What time is it?” She asked.

Jorah picked up his watch from the nightstand. “It’s mid-afternoon,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.”

Late morning saw the two of them give into their desire for one another as Daenerys pulled him to her bedroom. Their coupling was less frenzied than the encounter in Jorah’s car as both of them sought to reassure the other of their commitment to each other.

Daenerys realised that she had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped protectively around her and that it had been the most restful sleep she’d had since her true identity had come to light.

As much as she wanted to deny it, her dream had shaken her as her overworked mind threw up endless possibilities of how their world would come crashing down around them sooner or later. 

She hoped it wasn’t an omen of what was to come.


	25. Knowledge is Power

“Mr. Lannister will see you now,” Petyr Baelish said with a slimy smile on his face.

It was enough to make Jorah’s hackles rise.

The lawyer rang him early this morning to tell him that his presence was required at Tywin Lannister’s office. The head of the crime family wanted to know why he had not been arrested during the raid, with Tyrion having made it clear that he was expected to be there.

On the drive over, Jorah considered throwing Tyrion under the bus and claiming that he’d received no such orders from Tywin’s son. Although he didn’t trust the small man, he seemed the most decent and honest member of the Lannister family and his actions of two nights ago made Jorah think there was at least some good in the dwarf.

Jorah glowered at Petyr as he followed the lawyer into the room. His eyes widened when he noticed the room was full. Cersei and Jaime Lannister were present, along with both of the Clegane brothers and a bald man who stood in the corner watching everything but saying nothing, and it was enough to make Jorah swallow deeply in fear that they’d somehow found out about Daenerys and her true identity.

“You seem to have a habit of running into trouble, Mormont,” Tywin said, standing at his desk with his arms behind him. “This is twice now that someone has tried to take you out. You really should be more careful about who you cross.”

Unsure if there was some sort of hidden meaning to Tywin’s words, Jorah said nothing.

“You were not at the warehouse as requested, Mormont. I have little patience for a dog that can’t follow commands,” Tywin warned.

Jorah felt his heartbeat quicken, wondering if he would be able to pull off such a barefaced lie in front of the people who held his family hostage. He opened his mouth to speak…

“We believe Mr. Mormont was the target of a revenge attack from the Martell clan,” the bald man finally spoke up. They were the first words Jorah had ever heard the man say. “It would seem that our man has a been a little overzealous when carrying out your orders of late.”

Jorah could feel Tywin Lannister’s eyes boring into him.

“Do be more careful, Mormont,” Tywin sighed after a lengthy pause. “I have more pressing matters to deal with than finding an adequate replacement for you.”

Jorah swallowed deeply. His story was holding…for now.

“Perhaps if you spent more time with your head in the game than between that blonde tart’s legs, you wouldn’t get yourself into - “

Jorah turned and punched Petyr Baelish square in the jaw before he could stop himself.

The lawyer laughed from his prone position on the floor.

“You know she’s a Targaryen, don’t you?” Petyr said, wiping the blood from his lip. “Inbred savages, the lot of them.”

Jorah kicked at the lawyer repeatedly until he felt his arms being pulled back and dragged away by the Clegane brothers, leaving Petyr Baelish a bloodied mess on the floor.

Breathing heavily, Jorah pulled out of their grip, trying to control his anger, cursing himself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. Baelish was deliberately needling him, and he fell for it all too easily. Bringing attention to himself was the last thing he or Daenerys needed right now.

He watched the lawyer slowly drag himself to his feet as the Lannisters’ looked on at his predicament with a sense of amusement.

“Surely you won’t let this animal get away with this!” Petyr said, cradling his ribs.

It earned a low rumble of amusement from Tywin.

“You should know by now that you shouldn’t poke a bear when it’s angry,” the head of the crime family cautioned before turning his attention to Jorah. “There is a convoy expected to cross city lines tonight, make sure that all goes as planned,” he ordered.

Jorah nodded his head before giving Petyr Baelish one final look, not liking the smug expression on the other man’s face. For whatever reason, the lawyer had deliberately provoked a reaction from him, and Jorah hoped that it would not be a mistake that would come back to haunt him.

* * *

“You’ve been quiet lately,” DCI Davos Seaworth said, still somewhat annoyed that his officer hadn’t contacted him until now.

“I can hardly just pick up while Jorah’s still here, can I?” Daenerys hissed down the phone.

It didn’t sit well with Davos that his detective constantly referred to their target as ‘Jorah’ and not ‘Mormont’ or their ‘target’. Perhaps the bald man was right, maybe Daenerys was in over her head and had fallen in love with some sort of fairy-tale version of what she thought their target could be.

DCI Seaworth bit back on an acerbic reply.

“Do you have anything new for us?” He asked, flipping through pages of paperwork on his desk - paperwork that had been created by the raid on the Lannister warehouse two nights previously.

“Negative, sir,” she replied evasively.

“We haven’t picked up anything from the devices at Mormont’s place since the morning after the raid. I take it that he’s been staying with you then?” He asked.

It had been a deliberate move by Daenerys to keep her lover as far away from his apartment as possible. She hadn’t yet told him of the listening devices she’d placed there the first time they met, and it would be safer for both of them if they avoided having any conversations there any time soon.

At least at her apartment they could talk freely. If DCI Seaworth ever caught wind of the fact that Jorah knew her true identity, he would pull the operation without a second thought.

“If you have something to say, sir…just say it,” she replied testily.

“We’re paying you to get results, sergeant. I’m getting heat from above to get something tangible on the Lannisters and soon.”

Daenerys gripped the phone tighter, something would have to give sooner or later.

“I just need more time, sir. I’m close to uncovering something big, I promise you.”

* * *

The Spider handed his adversary a silk cloth before making himself comfortable in the chair on the opposite side of Petyr Baelish’s desk.

“It really doesn’t bode well to bait the bear,” the Spider said in a simpering voice. “You can only chain an animal up for so long before it learns to bite back.”

“And I’m sure you enjoyed the show,” the lawyer replied as he sat gingerly in his seat.

“Your employers seemed to,” the bald man sniffed. “You know that they don’t care for you, don’t you? As soon as you’ve outlived your usefulness, they’ll discard you like yesterday’s news.”

“You forget something,”

“And what is that?” The Spider replied.

Despite the bruising to his face, Petyr Baelish smiled.

“Knowledge is power.”

The bald man mirrored the lawyer’s expression with a smile of his own.

“Only in the right hands.”

The lawyer narrowed his eyes.

“You think that you’re so smart, don’t you?”

The Spider said nothing.

“You and your little birds…selling secrets to the highest bidder.”

“Are you implying that I am not loyal to my employer?”

“You said yourself that they would discard any one of us when we’re no longer useful. I’m not so naive to think that you haven’t already feathered your nest elsewhere.”

“And you have proof of this deception, I take it?” The Spider asked as he placed his hands in the sleeves of his silk gown.

The lawyer chuckled.

“I haven’t come this far to show my hand as soon as the cards are dealt.”

The bald man rolled his eyes.

“Could we dispense with metaphors and speak plainly?”

The lawyer smiled through bloodied lips. “Something has come to light which could be of great importance to you.”

The Spider sniffed dismissively.

“I assure you that you are in possession of nothing that I do not already have.”

“Are you sure about that? Sure enough to risk everything?”

“And what would you have me do?” The Spider asked. “Trust a man who has never spoken a word of truth in his life?”

Petyr grinned.

“Perhaps you are right not to trust me, but time shall tell soon enough.”

The bald man nodded and made his way to the door.

“If that is all…I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Once the Spider’s back was turned, Petyr opened the manilla folder on his desk, his eyes casting over information that his adversary had tried so hard to hide. 

Not only was Daenerys Targaryen Aerys’ daughter, she was an undercover cop colluding with none other than Jorah Mormont.

Everything the Spider had told Tywin Lannister about the girl had been a lie. The man thought he was so smart in playing each side against the other. 

The Spider was loyal to no one but himself.

Jorah Mormont had made a fool of him in front of the Lannisters today and Petyr Baelish was not the type of man who would let such an insult go without punishment. Unlike the bear of a man who beat him, Petyr had no brawn to rely on and neither did he need it. The information in his possession would see him cement his position at Tywin Lannister’s side and serve as a stark warning to anyone who dared to think they could outsmart him.

When the time was right, he would reveal his hand for all to see.


	26. A Targaryen Alone In The World...

Jon Snow bristled at the two men shoving him into the opulent-looking office.

He’d been dragged roughly from his bed, shoved into a car and taken to what looked like an abandoned factory. The men said nothing to him for the entire journey, although his failed attempt to shrug out of the grip of the man with the burned and maimed face had earned him another hard shove in the back for his troubles.

“Mr. Snow,” an older man sneered, looking down his nose at the man placed before him.

“Who the hell are you?” Jon replied. “I don’t appreciate being dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night.”

The stranger gave him a condescending look.

“There is a matter that I need to discuss with you that couldn’t wait,” the older man replied, glancing around the room.

It was then that Jon realised that they were not alone. He recognised the smug-looking woman as Cersei Lannister who stood by her twin brother’s side. He’d seen enough pictures of her in the press to know who she was.

“You’re Tywin Lannister?” Jon asked.

Tywin gave him a thin smile.

“Not as dim as you look, it would seem,” the crime lord replied drolly. “I have information that I think may be of use to you, Mr. Snow.”

He knew exactly what type of shit the Lannister family were messed up in and he didn’t want anything to do with it.

“You have nothing I want,” Jon shot back.

“Is that so?” Tywin replied, pulling a folder from his drawer and handing a picture to Sandor Clegane.

Jon felt the picture being shoved roughly into his hand. He glanced down at it.

“Who’s this?” He asked, looking at an older man with a beard and sandy blonde hair.

“You don’t recognise him?” Tywin asked.

“Should I?”

Tywin let out a low chuckle as he smiled at his two favoured offspring, who shared his mirthful expression.

“I expected better of an ex-special forces solider such as yourself. No wonder your family ended up the way it did.”

The comment brought Jon up short. The fate of his family was a sore subject for him, especially after the death of his father, Eddard Stark.

Jon knew he was a bastard from the moment he learned to walk and talk. His step-mother treated him with cold indifference at best and outright hostility for the most part. Catelyn Stark made no bones about the fact that she despised having her husband’s bastard child under her roof and was eager to show how little she thought of Jon each and every chance she got.

At least his half-brothers and sisters treated him a little more warmly, although when Christmas or birthdays rolled around, Jon would always come off second-best to his father’s legitimate offspring and it was the main reason that he sought to escape the Stark home as quickly as he could.

Joining the Army at just sixteen, Jon learned quickly to think on his feet, especially when the other soldiers discovered that he was the bastard son of the much-respected General Eddard Stark. Even though his father had retired and began making a name for himself as a local politician, the stain of being an illegitimate son of Eddard Stark meant that Jon had to work harder than anyone else in order to gain any recognition at all.

When the chance to join an elite special forces unit arose, Jon knew it was his chance to make a name for himself and to finally be accepted on merit instead of the label he’d unwittingly inherited upon his birth.

Everything came screeching to a halt on the fateful day a bomb exploded at a political rally his father was holding. Having set his sights on a place on the city council, Eddard Stark had promised that, if elected, he would create an initiative that gave the police greater powers to clamp down on the organised crime that was rife in the city and beyond.

But Eddard Stark was silenced in the most violent of ways.

When the bomb detonated, it took the lives of Eddard, along his wife Catelyn, and their three sons, Robb, Rickon and Bran. Their daughters Arya and Sansa were never found and were presumed dead.

Jon had not taken the news of his family’s demise well. 

Only weeks later, Jon found himself turned on by the men he had once called colleagues after discovering their plans to raid the famous banks of Bravos. Shot and left for dead, it took Jon months to recover from wounds that had almost killed him.

After handing in his notice to the Army, Jon joined a group of fellow ex-soldiers who prided themselves on the fact that they were loyal only to each other and would protect anyone they considered innocent and in need of their help. ‘The Watchers’ renounced all ties to family, possessions and gold, and remained loyal to their cause to rid the city of the criminal plague that was threatening to devour its innocent citizens whole.

“That man has been following you for weeks, Mr. Snow.”

Jon looked up from the picture.

“Who is he?”

Tywin smoothed down his tie and handed several sheafs of paper to Sandor Clegane.

Jon took the proffered sheets warily.

“His name is Jorah Mormont, former marine.”

“Why has he been following me?” Jon asked. “I’ve never met him before in my life.”

“Read the list of his skills,” Tywin prompted.

Jon scanned the documents, his eyes falling on the words ‘explosives specialist’.

Tywin smiled as he saw the realisation hit Jon squarely in the face.

“Are you telling me that he murdered my family?”

“I am,” Tywin replied. “It seems he and your father had a falling out many years ago and Mormont is the kind of man who, well…who likes to hold a grudge.”

“Where is he?” Jon demanded, feeling his temper get the better of him.

“That I don’t know,” Tywin lied. “But I do know that he abducted your sisters and sold them to a man by the name of Ramsey Bolton. Nasty piece of work that man is,” Tywin sniffed. “A violent, serial rapist.”

Jon stalked back and forth across the room.

“Tell me where to find him!”

Tywin laced his fingers together, ignoring the tirade from the young man.

“Mormont is notoriously good at laying low, but he’s also a creature of habit. The only information I can give you is that he’s taken a shine to a girl by the name of Daenerys Targaryen and rumour has it that it was her who convinced him to murder your family. You do know the history of the Targaryens, don’t you?”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” Jon scowled. “Just tell me where I can find him!”

“Aerys Targaryen ran this city, until his greed and paranoia got the better of him,” Tywin continued undeterred. “He died in a house fire along with his children and any remaining relatives with the same surname spread out far and wide, not wanting to meet the same fate as the head of their household. With Aerys dead, his family no longer ruled the city by fear and their name and its reputation died out.”

“And what does this girl have to do with anything?” Jon asked.

“She hid away across the sea for decades, planning and plotting, waiting for the right moment to strike and make a name for her family once more. Her sole motivation was to take back what had been stolen from her family and as the last remaining child of Aerys Targaryen, she swore to recoup all that was owed to her with fire and blood.”

Tywin looked at his twins, Jaime and Cersei, his eyes showing his paternal pride for them.

“It was Daenerys who insisted Mormont sold your sisters to Ramsey Bolton, knowing that a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.”

“That makes no sense,” Jon replied. “What do my sisters have to do with anything?”

“Your father never told you?”

“Told me what?”’

“That he wasn’t your father at all,” Tywin answered, pausing momentarily as the realisation dawned upon the younger man. “Your mother was Eddard’s sister, Lyanna who died giving birth to you.”

“So who is my father?”

“Aerys Targaryen’s son, Rhaegal. Meaning that you are a threat to her plan to take back all that she feels she has lost. With you dead, there will be nothing to stop her and she will do anything to get her way. Innocent people will die because of her need for vengeance and power. She will crush anyone who stands against her, particularly anyone who has a better claim to the family name. She has spent her life taking that which is rightfully yours.”

“So why tell me this now?” Jon questioned. “What benefit is it to you?”

Tywin stood and strode towards the young wolf, placing his hands on Jon’s shoulders as he looked him over.

“Protecting the innocent, is that not what you stand for? How many others must die before the cost is considered too high? She had your family...innocent young children killed…could you live with yourself knowing that you could have stopped her? You and I both want the same thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Daenerys Targaryen and her lapdog gone. She must be stopped before she takes any more innocent lives. She does not care if people are caught in her crossfire, she has driven herself to madness with her lust for power and greed. She will bring this city to her knees before her thirst for vengeance is quenched.”

“So what do you expect me to do?” Jon asked.

Tywin puffed out his chest, considering the question before answering.

“Stop her from getting her way by eradicating her – permanently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll be in hiding if anyone wants me... 
> 
> Nothing to see here *whistles innocently*


	27. Costly Mistakes

“No,” Jorah growled, more forcibly than he’d intended.

“Jorah, you know that sooner or later we’re going to get found out,” Daenerys replied, pleading with her lover to see reason.

“Do you think it’s just as easy as walking into his office and taking what you need?” Jorah shot back, running a hand over his thinning hair and stalking around Daenerys’ lounge. “If it was that easy, you wouldn’t have dragged me into this mess in the first place.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, even more so when he saw Daenerys’ crestfallen expression.

Whatever had come before and put them in this position was beside the point. The stakes were increased now that Jorah knew her true identity and it was only a matter of time before that news became common knowledge to the type of people who would use it to their own advantage.

“Besides,” Jorah continued, “Tywin is heavily guarded and isn’t stupid enough to leave anything incriminating lying around for anyone to find. He hasn’t built an empire by being a fool.”

“If we could just access his hard drive…we would have enough to put him and his whole family away for good. We can make sure the charges stick…and we can save your family.”

It was a low blow, and she knew it, but Daenerys was all out of other options. She had to make Jorah see that this was bigger than just the two of them.

“Don’t you think I don’t already know what’s at stake here?” He hissed, barely controlling his temper. “One false move and they’re dead. They don’t deserve to pay for my mistakes,” he whispered, feeling the anguish rake at his heart once more.

Daenerys walked towards the man she loved, placing a hand on his arm as he looked at her.

“We have the equipment, officers and power to take them all down for good.”

“And Tywin has more men and artillery than your boss would be willing to risk for some nameless criminal’s family. I can’t risk them being collateral damage just because of your need for vengeance.”

“It’s not about vengeance,” she told him. “It’s about doing what is right…it’s about the people and the lives they’ve taken along the way. The Lannisters deserve to pay for what they’ve done, but they won’t unless you help me, Jorah. I need you; I can’t do this without you.”

He pulled her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head. They were in a mess and he had no idea how to pull them out of it. No matter which way he turned, or which path he chose, someone would end up paying dearly for his mistakes.

* * *

DCI Davos Seaworth threw his mobile phone onto the passenger seat of his car. Lighting a cigarette, he blew out the smoke and tried to calm his raging anger.

He should have seen the warning signs earlier and now it might be too late to do anything but watch the fallout from a distance, knowing that he was powerless to stop it from unfolding before his very eyes.

He should have taken action when Daenerys began calling their target ‘Jorah’. He should have done more when she insisted that Mormont was one of the good guys.

It was always a risk in an operation like this one. There was always a chance that one of them would start to develop real feelings for the other, but he expected better from DS Targaryen, especially given her family history with the Lannisters. He had banked on her fury and need for vengeance being stronger than any attraction or feelings she might develop towards their target.

He was wrong.

He was wrong, and there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do about it.

Her contact with him had become patchy over the past few weeks and it had been days since she’d last checked in. They were picking nothing up from the listening devices in Mormont’s home, making it abundantly clear that the two of them were holed up in Daenerys’ apartment instead, away from the listening devices that would signal once and for all that the operation was blown.

DCI Seaworth wasn’t naive enough to believe that Mormont hadn’t already learned the truth about Daenerys - the behaviour of his officer made it clear that she’d revealed at least part of the truth to the man she was meant to be targeting.

DS Daenerys Targaryen had broken every rule in the book, and it was obvious that her feelings for her target were clouding her thinking to the point where she was not only a liability to herself, but also the operation and the taskforce she supposedly worked for. She was a loose cannon, all too likely to explode at exactly the wrong moment and with devastating consequences for those around her. If what she told him was true, it was more than just Daenerys’ life at stake if everything blew up in their faces.

She ignored every attempt that he made to contact her and so DCI Seaworth decided to go back to the tried and tested methods of police work by staking out his officer’s apartment. Sooner or later, she or Mormont would surface, and he would pull her out before she got herself killed.

He would drag her away from the mess she’d created and not give a second thought to Jorah Mormont - a man who more than deserved to pay for his crimes. His officer was in over her head and even if the story about his family was true, there was no justification for the things Mormont had done in the name of the Lannisters.

It would take months for Daenerys to realise that she’d let herself get trapped in Mormont’s murky web of crime and deceit, but Davos knew she would thank him for it in the long run.

Maybe he was getting too old for this kind of work, but hidden away from the streetlights, DCI Davos Seaworth made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat of his car, watching over Daenerys’ apartment building. He would wait for days if he needed to, but he would pull his officer out of the shit storm she’d created whether she wanted him to or not.

* * *

The Spider followed Sandor Clegane into the office of Tywin Lannister. It was not unusual for the man to order his presence at short notice and it was fortunate that he had sequestered evidence of his latest piece of information in a place that no one was likely to find it without tearing the place apart.

At Tywin’s behest, he had an office in the same building that the crime lord used as the centre of his operations, but the Spider was not foolish enough to conduct all of his business from such a place. Knowledge was worth far more than money and there were clandestine meetings that were not to be seen by the many prying eyes in the Lannister organisation.

If Petyr Baelish believed that he had unnerved his counterpart, he was sorely mistaken. The lawyer was not as smart as he convinced himself to be and his hubris would lead to his downfall before long, but for the time being, Petyr Baelish was more of an amusement than an annoyance.

For now.

“Thank you for joining us,” Tywin said as he sat behind his desk.

The Spider stood tall; his hands hidden in his robes as he frowned. Tywin Lannister was not normally this congenial.

“I am always at your service,” the Spider replied. “What is it that I can do for you?”

Tywin looked up from the papers on his desk.

“The girl that Mormont seems to have taken a shine to, you are sure that she’s only a distant relation to Aerys Targaryen?”

The Spider nodded and smiled. “I’m quite sure, sir. I have evidence of her birth certificate. Her father was a second cousin of Aerys and the two had met only a handful of times before Aerys’ unfortunate demise. The girl was born in Essos and raised there until she was old enough to choose her own path in life.”

Tywin’s eyes bored into him.

“And you believe this evidence to be correct?” 

Again, the Spider nodded.

“My sources are completely reliable, sir,” he replied with a tight smile as he caught sight of Petyr Baelish out of the corner of his eye. “I have always advised you accurately in the past, have I not?”

Tywin steepled his fingers as he looked down at the papers and then back at the Spider.

“Tell me, who else do you sell your secrets to?” The crime lord asked. 

“No one, sir,” The Spider replied tightly. “I serve only you. I know where my loyalties lie.”

Tywin stood quickly and made his way around the desk.

“Do you think me a fool?” He barked at the Spider. “I know you have been colluding with others.”

“I can assure you that I have not,” the Spider insisted. It was then that he felt a knife at his throat. He smelled the familiar scent of Petyr Baelish’s cheap aftershave.

“I did warn you not to trust me, didn’t I?” The lawyer whispered in the Spider’s ear. “I warned you that you were playing a dangerous game.”

The Spider swallowed deeply.

“Whatever he has told you, he is lying. I work for no one but you.”

“Do not lie to me!” Tywin bellowed. “You have known the Targaryen girl’s true identity from the start. You allowed her to sink her claws into Mormont knowing full well that she was a police officer.”

“Sir, I - “

“Enough of your lies!” Tywin shouted. “I was foolish to buy your insincerity for so long, but you should know by now that a Lannister always pays his debts.”

The Spider saw the nod from Tywin Lannister before he felt the knife cut across his throat. As his knees buckled and weakened, the Spider took his last gasping breaths as he sank to the floor. The last image he saw was of a grinning Petyr Baelish staring gleefully at him from above.


	28. Paying Your Debts

DC Edd Tollet sat on the couch in his small apartment, knocking back another glass of scotch.

He jumped as his mobile phone rang. Putting the glass down, he picked the phone up wincing when he heard a familiar voice on the other end.

“Detective Tollet,” Petyr Baelish’s oily voice purred down the line. “Mr. Lannister insisted that I call you and pass on his thanks for your valuable information.”

Edd took a deep breath, he’d wanted no part of this from the beginning, even less so now that his actions might lead to a fellow officer losing their life.

“We’re done now,” Edd growled, reaching for the whiskey bottle once more. “My debt is paid. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

He could hear the lawyer laughing down the phone.

“Your debt is paid when we say it is, Detective.”

Edd hung up, throwing his mobile phone back onto the coffee table, feeling the tears prick his eyes as he berated himself for ever getting into this mess in the first place.

He’d had everything he ever wanted after graduating from the police academy. So many of his fellow colleagues had picked him out against the hundreds of other new cops as the one who would really make a name for himself. 

Having moved from a uniformed officer to a detective, he had the world at his feet.

Until his beloved younger brother had been killed in the line of duty while serving in the Royal Marines.

He and Pyp had always been close and both of them dreamed of their chosen careers as children. Pyp always wanted to join the Navy and sail the seven seas, while Edd wanted to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and make a name for himself as a police officer.

The two brothers would spend their days as boys playing cops and robbers or staging skirmishes and gunfights with plastic pistols, running around in the fields by their home until the evening grew long and the sunlight faded.

Older than Pyp by almost three years, it was Edd who achieved his dreams first by being successfully selected for the police cadet academy and it was his younger brother Pyp who cheered the loudest at the passing out parade.

Edd returned the favour when Pyp passed his basic training and joined the Navy as an eighteen year old boy who was full of vigour and enthusiasm, ready to discover the world that lay outside the mainland.

As both brothers grew older and more experienced within their careers, they always made time for one another, especially when Pyp was home on shore leave after another tour overseas.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to Edd when Pyp told him that he had been selected to join the Royal Marines - the pinnacle of what it meant to ‘be the best’ in the Navy.

As Edd’s career took him from being a uniformed officer to a plain clothes detective, Pyp began to get involved in several high-risk missions that only the Royal Marines were considered brave and skilled enough to undertake. 

It was then that Pyp began writing home to Edd to tell him of the captain of their unit, Jorah Mormont.

It was clear from the way Pyp spoke about the man that he idolised him. Pyp wrote telling his older brother of the crazy missions they were sent on and how Mormont was a hero in his eyes. Edd took those letters with a pinch of salt until a uniformed naval officer knocked on his apartment door one evening.

Edd screwed his eyes shut, trying to banish the memory of that naval officer standing in front of him, hat under his arm and a solemn look on his face. The man didn’t need to utter a word for Edd to know that the worst had happened.

Pyp was dead.

After the shock of Pyp’s passing began to fade, it was brought back painfully by the inquest into the undercover mission that led to the death of two marines and career-ending injuries to a further two of the special-ops group.

Edd went to every single day of the inquest, wanting to uncover the truth as to why his brother had lost his life. He felt the rage build inside him as he listened to the testimony of the team’s commanding officer, Jorah Mormont.

Mormont was badly injured in the incident that led to two of his men losing their lives and gave his testimony on crutches, although the evidence given by Naval medical officers made it clear that the man had suffered far more than just an injured leg, though most of the other injuries were hidden behind his dress uniform.

The mission the team were given was foolhardy and had little chance of success and although Jorah Mormont was simply following orders from his superior officers, Edd couldn’t help but blame the man who had led his team into such a hopeless situation in the first place.

For Edd, Jorah Mormont became the focal point of his anger and grief at losing his beloved brother, Pyp. As the inquest drew to a close and the judge passed a verdict that saw Jorah Mormont and his commanding officers walk free with their reputations and records untarnished, Edd found his anger boiling over.

It didn’t matter to Edd that the injuries Mormont sustained meant he had no choice but to take an honourable discharge from the Navy on medical grounds. The man had led his team into an impossible situation that led to the loss of two lives.

Edd’s life began to veer off track after the inquest closed as he sought solace both within the whiskey bottle and at the card table, to the point that both addictions spiralled wildly out of control.

His earnings as a police detective with no wife or children were enough to cover his gambling debts for a while, but the more he lost, the more compelled he was to make the money back again. To him, playing cards and gambling away his money gave him the notion that he could control the environment around him. He could change his fortune any time he chose. He was in control, no one else.

Those lies only worked for so long though and Edd soon found himself losing more at the poker table at night than he could cover with his wages as a police detective during the day. He was running out of money and had burned all credit he might have had with his friends.

Half-drunk, he’d bumped into a man who offered to back his talents at the poker table – a dark-haired man with a goatee beard and a strange, almost foreign accent who seemed to have money to burn.

Edd should have been smart enough to realise that there was some sort of catch and realised his mistake all too late.

The dark-haired man warned him that he would need to repay his debt one day and that his employer always collected on any money owed to him. Not through any need to recoup the losses, but as a matter of principal.

Months after last seeing the man, Edd’s phone rang and the familiar voice filled him with a sense of dread.

“The time has come to pay the piper,” Petyr Baelish told him. “Mr. Lannister has a job for you.”

Edd was in over his head and the people he owed money to had already sent thugs to pay him a visit. The creepy lawyer also had more than enough evidence to ensure that Edd’s career as a detective would be over before it truly started, unless he did as he was told.

The Lannisters had sent two heavy-set men to the old man’s watch shop and made it clear that the retired Navy commander was to be dispatched without mercy in order to send a message to the watchmaker’s son. It was only when Edd stood face to face with the old man that he realised who he was.

While the man’s son had stared blankly ahead and only attended the inquest hearing on the days he was called to testify, Jeor Mormont sat in the courtroom and listened to every piece of evidence, determined that he would protect his son from any political fallout from the fateful incident. 

It was the look of surprise on Jeor Mormont’s face that gave one of Edd’s accomplices the time the bury the knife into the old man’s abdomen, plunging it in several more times before the man could react.

If he closed his eyes, Edd could still see one of the Lannister men cut the dying man’s finger off before waving it in his face and leaving him to die slowly on the dirty floor of his shop.

That was years ago and Edd considered whatever debt he owed was now paid and that he could put the past behind him and move on with what was left of his life.

He was wrong.

Petyr Baelish darkened his door once more, demanding any information he might have on a Targaryen girl his employer was interested in. Once again, the threat of what the Lannisters might do was enough to make Edd cave into their demands and the lure of Jorah Mormont finally paying for Pyp’s death was an offer that he couldn’t refuse.

And so he spilled his guts to the lawyer, providing irrefutable proof that his fellow detective was an undercover officer tasked with bringing the Lannister organisation to its knees. He gave the lawyer access to redacted files that proved beyond a doubt that she was none other than Aerys Targaryen’s daughter, even though the name meant nothing to Edd himself.

Petyr Baelish informed him that his slate was now clean and that the debt he owed was paid and he knew that meant only one thing…

The Lannisters would deal with Jorah Mormont and Daenerys Targaryen in the way they saw fit and Edd was painfully aware that his actions had probably just signed their death warrants.


	29. Running Out Of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are going to come thick and fast over the next week because I need to finish posting this story before Christmas (for reasons that I can't divulge right now).
> 
> All will become clear next week...hopefully!

DCI Davos Seaworth was not expecting the text message that pinged to his phone as he sat in his car several feet away from DS Daenerys Targaryen’s apartment building.

Letting out a breath of annoyance, Davos picked up the phone, his eyes widening as he read the message:

**We have important matters to discuss. I need to meet with you urgently.**

The message was succinct, much in the Spider’s style and attached were GPS coordinates to a meeting place about an hour outside of the city.

Davos typed back a quick reply, knowing the Spider was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. Nor was he a man who contacted him for no reason. Whatever the Spider needed to tell him, it was important and time-sensitive, that much was clear.

Turning the key in the ignition, DCI Davos Seaworth pulled away from his undercover officer’s apartment building reluctantly and followed his phone’s sat nav to the Spider’s meeting place.

Almost an hour later, Davos found himself pulled up on the side of a quiet country road with little or no traffic passing by. He huffed humourlessly as he pulled himself out of his car, knowing it was just like the Spider to choose such a place. The man had always given him solid information, but the Spider also had a penchant for dramatics when the mood took him, and so the location he’d chosen came as no surprise to the experienced police detective.

Checking that his gun was still securely in its holster, Davos looked around, checking that he and the Spider were alone on the desolate road, before making his way to the man’s car.

The closer he came to the vehicle, the more unsettled Davos began to feel, and his breath died in his throat when he saw the corpse of the Spider sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, his sightless eyes staring at something in the distance.

Davos drew his gun and checked around for a possible ambush, but could see no one else in the growing darkness.

Reluctantly, he opened the passenger door, his eyes confirming what he already knew to be true - the Spider was dead.

Tucked into one of the sleeves of the police informant’s outfit was a brown envelope. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves that he kept in his jacket pocket out of habit, Davos removed it from the dead man and opened it carefully.

He felt his world crumbling down around him as he stared back at irrefutable proof that his undercover officer Daenerys Targaryen’s true identity had been revealed to the very people she was attempting to bring down.

There was a target on her back and the Lannisters would move swiftly to claim their vengeance.

Daenerys Targaryen, and by association her target Jorah Mormont, were in serious danger and Davos prayed that he could reach them before the Lannisters did.

* * *

Daenerys felt the tension rolling off her lover in waves as they lay in bed together.

Jorah had been quiet all evening and she knew that he was thinking over their conversation from earlier in the day. She was aware that she asked him to do the impossible, but they were running out of time and if they didn’t do something soon, they would all be in danger.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Daenerys asked the man she loved as she lay on her side, looking at Jorah, noticing how tired he looked.

“There’s nothing left to talk about,” he replied, his fingers running up and down her exposed arm as it lay on the sheets.

“Well find a way, I promise you.”

Jorah shook his head sadly.

“None of this is going to end well,” he replied, fatigue lacing his words. “I can’t see any way out of this where everyone gets what they want.”

“We can do it, as long as we stick together,” she told him, trying to rally some sort of fighting spirit within him. “Promise me that whatever happens, it’s just you and me.”

His heart ached and he wanted to tell her those words, but he knew them to be a lie. One of them would have to sacrifice themselves to save the other and his mind was already made up in that regard.

“If it comes to it,” Jorah said, his voice breaking slightly, “You need to forget about me and keep yourself safe. If it comes down to making a choice, I’ll do whatever it takes to save you and my family. Promise me, Daenerys,” he found himself choking on his own words. “Promise me that you’ll save them if something happens to me.”

She kissed him soundly, feeling tears prick at her eyes.

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me,” she told him.

“You might not have a choice,” he replied. “And you know it’s the right thing to do. I’m a criminal…I deserve to be punished for the things I’ve done.”

“No,” she told him vehemently. “You’re a good man, Jorah.”

He tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear and looked at her sadly.

“Then let me do this. Let me do the right thing for once.”

She screwed her eyes shut.

“This isn’t fair!” She ground out.

“I know,” he replied sadly, “I love you, Daenerys…I would do anything for you.”

“Then don’t give up! Stay with me…help me!”

“Whatever happens, I want you to live, Daenerys Targaryen…I want you to live and be happy,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “If I have to die, let my life have meaning. Forget about me and be happy…don’t risk everything for me.”

“I hate this!”

“I know,” he told her sadly. “I’m sorry that I ever got you into this mess in the first place.”

“I’m not,” she said, conviction in her voice. “I don’t regret a single moment we spent together.””

He smiled sadly at her.

“Me neither. I love you, Daenerys. I will always love you.”

He held her as she cried in his arms, her tears falling onto his bare chest as he kissed the top of her head, wishing for all the world that their circumstances were different. Maybe, in another time and place, they could be happy together. He knew the fates had a different outcome in store for them. They were cursed, doomed to lose one another so soon after falling for each other.

Perhaps it was the punishment he deserved for the things he’d done, but Daenerys did not deserve any of this. It should be he alone that was punished, and he would do whatever it took to make sure that she did not atone for his transgressions.

He flinched as he felt her hand snake towards his groin and grabbed her wrist gently to stop her hand from traveling any further.

“Daenerys - “

“Please, Jorah,” she said, not afraid to beg if she needed to. “Can we just forget, for one night, that this is happening to us? Can we just pretend that we’re happy, just for a few hours?”

He knew he could deny her nothing as he acquiesced to her demands, rolling on top of her and kissing her deeply. If tonight was all they had, he would spend it showing Daenerys just how much he loved her, hoping that it would be enough to get her through the cold and lonely nights once he was gone.

* * *

Daenerys was dozing, one hand still draped over Jorah’s chest as he held her close. Their lovemaking had been sweet and tender, deeper than any time before and she knew exactly why. Jorah was intending to sacrifice himself for her, knowing that should it come down to it, he would always choose to put himself in harm’s way to save her.

Her eyes sprang open as her phone began to buzz.

Grabbing it from the nightstand, she saw her boss’ number come up. She answered it warily.

“Sir?”

Her voice was enough to wake Jorah as he looked at her in confusion.

“We have a situation, Sergeant. It seems as if the Lannisters know your true identity. We need to pull you out of the operation straight away.”

Daenerys felt her stomach drop at her superior’s words. There was no way she would leave the fate of Jorah and his family in the hands of the Lannisters.

“No,” she replied forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” DCI Seaworth replied.

“I’m not going anywhere without Jorah.”

“For fuck’s sake, there’s a bounty on your head, Daenerys! You have to get out while you still can.”

She shook her head.

“They’ll kill Jorah and his family,” she replied. “I won’t let that happen. The only way I’m doing anything is if you help them.”

It seemed like an age, but DCI Seaworth finally responded, realising they were running out of time..

“Fine. I’ll send you a location. Meet me there.”

* * *

Jon Snow sat in his car, watching as the man and woman left the apartment block and jogged towards a car.

He had been waiting for hours, biding his time until his targets finally emerged from the building.

Allowing the other car to get a head start, he followed them, always staying far enough behind so as not to seem suspicious.

Soon, his time would come…


	30. The Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of the chapter title and heed the warnings I've given several times already about this story. If this isn't your thing or likely to upset you DO NOT READ ON.

“Are you ready?” Daenerys asked, turning to Jorah who sat in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel nervously.

“What exactly do you think is going to happen here?” He asked her tersely. “You think your boss is just going to turn around and let me go?”

“He promised he would help us…both of us.”

Jorah shook his head.

“When it comes down to it, his loyalty will be to you. As it should be.”

“No,” she told him vehemently. “He’s a good man, he’ll do the right thing.”

Jorah looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow.

“Good people don’t always do the right thing.”

“What other choice do we have?” She replied. “What if they’ve already given the order to kill your family?” She felt awful as pain flashed across her lover’s face. “Right now, my boss is the best chance you’ve got of saving them.”

She watched as Jorah ran a hand over his unkempt beard. He looked exhausted and finally nodded his agreement, opening the car door and climbing out.

DCI Seaworth’s car was parked further up the quiet road and Jorah wasn’t so foolish as to believe that the man didn’t have dozens of officers hiding in the bushes, waiting for their superior’s signal to close in or take a shot at their target.

As he walked slowly towards the ageing police officer, Jorah stopped several feet away, looking around suspiciously.

“I came alone, Mormont,” DCI Seaworth called out. “I didn’t exactly have time to call for backup. It’s just the three of us, I promise you.”

Jorah huffed at that.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. It’s not like you’ve tried to set me up before.”

“Jorah - “ Daenerys began, trying to get her lover to see reason.

“It’s fine,” Davos cut in, holding his hands up. “You’ve got no reason to trust us, Mormont. We might just be your best bet of everyone getting out of this in one piece though.”

“You’re a fool if you think any of this is going to end well,” Jorah scoffed.

“Daenerys told me about your family,” DCI Seaworth continued, knowing he didn’t have time to mess around. If he had to go for the jugular, so be it. “Come with us and we’ll do our best to save them, you have my word.”

“You’ll do your best?” Jorah repeated, feeling his anger get the better of him. 

“The only other option I see is you going it alone… You don’t stand a chance against the Lannisters and you know it.”

“Jorah, please,” Daenerys implored him. “You can trust us.”

She could see the indecision on Jorah’s handsome face as he debated what to do, following him as he paced around the desolate country road. So caught up in trying to make him see sense, none of them paid any attention to the car coming their way.

Daenerys realised all too late that the car was heading directly at them at alarming speed. She had only a second to react and yet it was enough for her to know that she was doing the right thing.

She pushed Jorah out of the way, taking the full force of the car as it ploughed into her before screeching away into the distance.

Regaining consciousness seconds after the car had clipped him, Jorah let out an anguished cry as he clambered to his feet and took Daenerys’ broken body in his arms. He already knew it was too late, the vacant look in her eyes as she stared through him told him that she was dead.

He held her close, not caring that her blood was soaking into his clothes. He held her and sobbed, wishing he could somehow bring her back to life.

“Please, Daenerys,” he begged as he held her tightly. “Please don’t leave me!”

DCI Seaworth looked on, still too stunned to move. It had all happened so quickly.

Any doubts that he’d had about their target caring about Daenerys were dispelled as he saw how the man grieved.

He knew he owed the man a little time to mourn her at least, but time was against them and the Lannisters had made their intentions clear. It would only be a matter of hours before merry hell was rained down upon them all.

“You have to let her go, Mormont,” DCI Seaworth said quietly, approaching the other man with caution. “Time is running out.”

The detective reached out a hand, intending to put it on the other man’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Jorah snarled.

“You realise that he was sent to kill you both,” DCI Seaworth continued. “Are you going to let her sacrifice be in vain?”

“It should have been me!” Jorah sobbed, still clinging to her lifeless body. 

“Well, I can’t say I disagree,” the detective huffed. “Daenerys made it her life’s work to bring down the Lannisters and the only way we can do that now is if you and I work together.”

“What are you talking about?” Jorah replied, feeling the life rush out of him as he looked upon Daenerys’ broken form.

DCI Seaworth let out a deep breath.

“I have a feeling the Spider isn’t the only one who has been playing both sides. I’m sure there’s a mole in my department too.”

“What the hell does that have to do with any of this?”

“You saw who was driving that car?”

Jorah screwed his eyes shut - the image of Jon Snow was etched onto his retinas as the young man careened the car towards them.

“It’s a fair bet that he was gunning for the both of you,” the detective continued, “chances are that he looked behind and saw both of you on the ground.”

“What’s your point?” Jorah asked tiredly.

“The Lannisters are going to want to see the results. I say that we give them some.”

“What difference does it make to me?” Jorah replied. “Daenerys is dead, and my family probably are too. Why don’t you just put a bullet in my head and get it over with?”

“Because I think we’ve got a chance if you and I work together. You get me Tywin Lannister’s hard drive and I give you my word that we’ll get your family back. Dead or alive, we’ll get them back, I promise you.” The detective could see that the other man was considering his words. “Don’t let her death be in vain, Mormont.”

Jorah let out another anguished sob. He had said the very same thing to Daenerys only hours ago. She deserved to have the same promise from him.

“What are you suggesting?” Jorah asked, finally looking up at his one-time adversary.

DCI Seaworth puffed his chest out, feigning a level of confidence he didn’t feel.

“We’re going to fake your death and hope to God that the Lannisters buy it,” he replied before heading to the rear of his car and returning with a small black device, holding it out to Jorah. “If it works, it’ll buy you twenty-four hours, maybe more. Access Tywin’s computer and download everything you can onto this. It’ll automatically transfer everything to me, and we’ll take them down for good this time.”

“And family?” Jorah asked. “Do you give me your word that you’ll find them?”

Davos nodded his head tightly.

“You have my word, Mormont,” the detective replied. “Now let’s make this look good…”

* * *

“Why are we doing this again?” Bronn asked as he looked at Tyrion. “Last time I looked, this had fuck-all to do with us.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his colleague’s obstinate nature.

“I’m paying you for your brawn, not your brains.”

“Last time I looked, you were paying me with money out of your father’s purse,” Bronn shot back. “I’m sure I could up my price if I let slip what you’ve been up to.”

Tyrion ignored the other man’s goading words.

“Shit is going to start raining down on all of us sooner or later, and I’d rather not be caught out in the storm without an umbrella, if you get my meaning.”

Whatever the meaning was, it was lost on Bronn.

“Mormont is probably dead by now and my father has no intention of letting his family walk free.”

“Still don’t see what this has to do with us,” Bronn grumbled.

“Because I owe him,” Tyrion replied. “And a Lannister always pays his debts…I want you to go in there and liberate the womenfolk and take them to this location.”

“And you’ll be doing what in the meantime?”

“Something that I should have done a long time ago,” the small man replied as he waddled away and back to his car.


	31. Loyalty

DCI Davos Seaworth stood still, despite the frenetic activity going on around him. He was still finding it hard to accept that the broken body lying in the road was that of his officer, Daenerys Targaryen.

Years from now, he would replay the moment over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how he could have saved her.

The only thing that would have saved her was not taking on the undercover operation in the first place. They had all known the risks but pressed ahead with the operation anyway and it had led to the death of a woman killed way before her time.

He shook his head as if to clear it, knowing that the time to grieve would come later and that he had to take charge before things completely fell apart.

“Guv, I got here as soon as I could,” DC Edd Tollett said breathlessly, making his way over to his superior officer. “What the hell happened?” The younger man said, looking decidedly nauseous as he watched the coroner direct his assistants to lift Daenerys Targaryen’s lifeless form into a black bag and then onto a stretcher.

“Someone made DS Targaryen and put out a hit on her,” Davos replied. “We were too late to stop it.”

“And Mormont?” Edd asked.

Davos motioned to a vehicle to the left of the scene and Edd watched on as the doors were slammed shut, but not before seeing another body bag on the stretcher inside.

“Why the fuck isn’t he still lying in the road?” Edd asked angrily. It was an unwritten rule in the force that you always looked after your own first. “What’s with the special treatment?”

Davos pinned his subordinate with a stare.

“Because I couldn’t stand to see that arsehole for a moment longer. He got our officer killed!”

Edd took a step back, shocked by his superior’s outburst as he watched his fallen colleague being wheeled towards another unmarked van on its way to the coroner’s office.

“What do you need me to do?” Edd asked, pulling his notepad from his jacket pocket.

DCI Seaworth cleared his throat, hoping that his little acting stunt was enough for his officer to buy it.

“Coordinate a search for a dark blue sedan with considerable damage to its front end. Check every garage within a sixty mile radius of here,” Davos replied. “SOCOs are trying to lift tyre prints that might help us narrow down a make and model of the vehicle. Get every spare officer we have on this. I want the bastard found, am I clear?”

DC Edd Tollett swallowed deeply having never seen his normally calm and collected boss so enraged.

“On it, boss,” Edd replied nervously. “I’ll head back to the station and get on it right now.”

Davos nodded his head and strode past his subordinate, brushing his shoulder in his haste to move. Edd cocked an eyebrow but thought no further of it as he made his way back to his car.

Ensuring that he couldn’t be overheard, Edd pulled out his phone and dialled a familiar number.

“You have news?” Petyr Baelish asked, the smirk on his face already evident in his tone.

“They’re dead,” Edd replied tonelessly. He had wished Jorah Mormont dead for years, but the death of his fellow officer was too high a price to pay. He would never forgive himself for the role he played in it.

“Both of them?” Baelish asked after a pause.

“Both of them,” Edd repeated back. Their bodies are on the way to the coroner’s office now.

“Excellent, Detective Tollett. Consider your debt repaid.”

Edd winced as the line went dead, knowing that it was probably only a matter of hours before he too would end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

* * *

_"I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel…" Tyrion slurred as he looked up at the brunette sitting next to him, taking another swig of wine as she rolled her eyes at him._

_He looked up to find the tall figure of Jorah Mormont standing in front of him._

_“Mormont, what are you doing here?” Tyrion asked, draining the last of his drink and frowning as he felt the taller man’s hand on his shoulder. “And why are there two of you – is he your twin?” he continued, pointing to thin air._

_“You’re done for the night,” Jorah replied, tossing enough notes on the bar to cover the other man’s tab._

_Tyrion waved a shaky finger in the bearded man’s general direction._

_“I’m just getting started,” he hiccupped. “Bartender, another drink if you please.”_

_He frowned when the barman looked at Jorah and thought better of it, walking away to serve another drunk at the opposite end of the bar._

_Tyrion found himself being pulled to his feet._

_“You’re a real cock-blocker, you know that?” He grumbled as the world span around him and he tumbled into a heavy-set man with biker tattoos. “Terribly sorry, my dear,” Tyrion smiled as he wavered on his feet. “Jorah, get this nice young lady a fresh drink will you?”_

_He heard Jorah let out an expletive and suddenly all hell broke loose as the bar descended into a chaotic fist fight that was only broken up by the arrival of the police._

_Using his small stature to his advantage, he managed to get a few low blows in before getting in a tangle with Jorah and smashing a bottle over one of the police officer’s heads._

_It all became a bit of a blur after that and before he knew it, he was handcuffed and thrown in the back of a police van with a very angry bear for company._

_“Did we at least win?” He asked, trying to make himself comfortable on the hard, wooden bench. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he continued, seeing the glower on the other man’s face._

_They sat in silence until the van pulled up and the doors opened. He peered out and saw the brightly-lit facade of the local police station in front of him._

_“Ah, I think you’ve maybe got the wrong address,” he said. “This isn’t where I live.”_

_“It is tonight,” one of the officers spat as Tyrion found himself being dragged from the van._

_He said nothing as the two of them were booked and processed and multiple officers threatened violence as they refused to answer as to who had hit the officer with the bottle. He risked a glance at Jorah, wondering if the sullen man would break first and point the finger at him._

_They were split up minutes later and taken to separate cells where officers continued to question them, raising their fists and threatening harm. It didn’t seem to matter that Tyrion had threatened them with his lawyer coming through the station in a blaze of glory to demand their release._

_He’d been dozing in a wine-fuelled daze for the last hour or so when the cell door opened, and Tyrion found himself dragged to the cell Mormont had been placed in. His eyes widened when he saw the state of the man._

_“Your lawyer will be here in a few hours to sign your release papers,” the officer said, a smug smile on his face._

_It didn’t escape Tyrion’s notice that the man had several flecks of blood on his pristine white shirt._

_“What is the meaning of this?” Tyrion demanded, looking down at the beaten form of Jorah Mormont._

_“He confessed,” the officer said, slamming the door shut and bolting it securely._

_Tyrion crept over to the other man and knelt down, wincing at the blood and bruising on his face. Looking at the man’s wrists, he could see the marks where the handcuffs had been, and he wasn’t naive enough to think that the officers had given the stubborn old bear a fighting chance. They’d given him a beating and no way to defend himself._

_Tyrion jumped back slightly as the other man let out a deep groan and a bloodshot half-opened eye found his._

_“Your self-sacrificing heroics are going to get you killed one day, you know that?” He said as he helped the other man to lean back against the cell wall. “Why did you tell them that it was you?”_

_The beaten man said nothing, continuing to stare at the opposite wall as Tyrion shook his head, realising that he would never understand what made the miserable old bear tick. Despite everything they said about Mormont, he was loyal to a fault._

_Too loyal._

* * *

Tyrion pulled up outside the old factory building. He glanced at his phone to see a message from Bronn:

**Mission accomplished.**

It was blunt and to the point and no less than he expected from the man, but it meant that the Mormont women were safe for now, at least.

He felt his heart thump painfully as he read another message, this time from Petyr Baelish:

**Mormont and the Targaryen are dead. Jon Snow will soon follow.**

It had been his father’s plan all along - convince Jon Snow that Mormont and the Targaryen girl had killed his family and then kill the boy once the deed was done, ensuring that every last trace of the Targaryen legacy was removed from existence.

The order had likely already been given to take the boy out and soon the Targaryens would be gone for good. 

It wasn’t like his father to expend so much energy and effort on something that would lead to such little financial gain, but when it came to the Targaryens, it had always been personal.

It wouldn’t be long before his father realised that his youngest son had betrayed him. All he needed to do was sneak into the office, take enough money to see him across the Narrow Sea and hope that his father would be too preoccupied with his hollow victory to notice what was happening right under his nose.


	32. The Night Is Dark...

Maege Mormont tensed as the rear door of the van opened. After everything they had been through, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the man that took them from the place they’d been held prisoner in for years was truly on their side.

It all happened so quickly.

She and the girls were just sitting down to eat their evening meal when Maege heard the sound of breaking glass coming from outside.

Since their capture and imprisonment, she and her daughters had been placed in a large house in the remote countryside at least a few hours outside the city. True to their word, the Lannisters spared no expense when it came to their surroundings and if it wasn’t for the many guards watching the house, it was easy to almost believe that they were happily living a life of freedom and comfort.

There was no point in trying to escape. They were heavily outnumbered and even if she and Dacey were able to overpower a few of the guards, it would be the younger girls who would pay for their folly.

Deprived of communication with the outside world, Maege and the girls were forced to listen to the mutterings of the guards and she never felt more helpless than when those ugly, brutish men gleefully told them of the despicable criminal acts her nephew had committed.

She doubted that half of the tales they told were true, but each time she heard the guards talking about the man she loved like a son, the deeper the knife was plunged into her heart.

Jorah was a good man…honourable and loyal.

Too loyal.

He sacrificed everything he held dear to ensure his family’s safety, knowing that he would forever be known as a criminal and a thug.

The sound of the goateed man clicking his fingers in front of her eyes brought Maege back to the present with a jolt.

“This is where you ladies get out,” the tall, dark-haired man said, ushering them from the back of the vehicle.

“Where are we?” She asked, pulling her youngest daughter closer to her side, still not fully trusting the man who had ‘liberated’ them from their prison only hours ago.

He ignored her question as he pointed to his left.

“About 500 yards that way is a police station. I think you can handle it from here.”

“Why are you doing this?” Maege asked, watching the man get back into the van and start the engine.

Again, he ignored her question.

“You’re fucking welcome,” he man groused, shaking his head and then pulling away.

* * *

Jorah woke with a start as he lifted a hand to his head.

He didn’t recognise the man looking at him from above. It was then that Jorah realised he was on a stretcher of some sort.

“Easy there,” the man said kindly. “You might feel a bit nauseous for a while, but it will pass.”

The last thing he remembered was Daenerys’ boss instructing him to turn around before everything suddenly went black.

Jorah sat up on the stretcher, thankful that the vehicle no longer seemed to be moving.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Dr. Lewin, the city coroner and you’re currently in the back of one of vans.”

So this was what Seaworth meant by making it look good?

“What happened?” Jorah asked, still trying to piece everything together. “How long have I been out?”

The coroner smiled at him.

“Long enough for it to look good, according to Detective Seaworth,” the other man replied.

“What does any of this have to do with you?” 

Dr. Lewin let out a deep breath, looking almost sad.

“Let’s just say that I owed Detective Seaworth a favour and he’s finally come knocking after all these years. Whatever strings he pulled for you; I hope you can repay the favour he’s done you.”

Jorah ignored the man for a number of moments.

“I have to go; there’s somewhere I need to be.”

The coroner nodded his head and opened the rear door of the van.

“The city is about a mile due east from here. I trust you know where you’re going?”

Jorah climbed out the back of the van and nodded his head.

He knew exactly where he was going.

* * *

_Mormont hadn’t seen the blow coming until it was too late and fell to the ground easily enough._

_Davos knew that he had little time to make things look good and that he would need to rely on a favour from an old friend for this little charade to seem plausible at all._

_There was a mole within his team, he was sure of it. There was no other reasonable explanation for why the operation had fallen apart so quickly and why his officer’s cover had been blown._

_With both the Spider and Daenerys dead, Davos was not sure who he could trust. It could be any one of his colleagues that had sold Daenerys out and Davos had his suspicions as to who it might be, but he would need to prove it._

_He turned around as the road lit up behind him. Holding up an arm to block the glare of the headlights, Davos squinted._

_“I came as quickly as I could,” a grey haired man with spectacles said._

_The man standing opposite him had owed him a debt and Davos had held off until now to finally call it in by texting: **The night is dark…**_

_“I’m sorry to drag you out of bed, Lewin,” Davos said, feeling the life drain out of him as he once again looked down at his officer’s broken body. “But this couldn’t wait.”_

_The coroner looked at his old friend sympathetically._

_“I’m sorry for your loss.”_

_Davos nodded his head tightly, trying to keep a lid on his emotions._

_“I think we have a live one here,” Dr. Lewin said, noticing the small twitch of the man lying face-down in the road._

_“That’s what I need your help with,” Davos replied. “I need everyone to think he’s dead.”_

_The coroner stared at his friend for a number of moments._

_“I see…”_

_Davos looked at his watch._

_“I reckon we have about forty minutes before this place is crawling with police officers,” the detective said, opening the rear of his car and pulling out a paper bag of groceries. “Have you got your camera with you, doctor?”_

_The coroner nodded, a bemused smile on his face as he watched the police officer rip open the packet of pork mince and drop pieces of it around the unconscious man’s head._

_With a resigned sigh, Dr. Lewin began photographing the staged scene, taking pictures of the two bodies lying next to each other. With that done, he covered Daenerys’ body with a sheet and called for two mortuary vans to attend the scene._

_Davos frowned as the twitching form of Jorah Mormont began to groan and he knew that it would not be long before the man fully regained consciousness. He was debating hitting him over the head again when Dr. Lewin pulled a syringe out of his medical bag._

_“Allow me,” the coroner said with a smile. “That should hold him still for a little while.”_

_Davos ran a hand over his beard and narrowed his eyes at his old friend._

_“Do I even want to ask?”_

_The doctor chuckled softly._

_“Probably best if you don’t,” he replied. “We’ll take him away first and have the photos uploaded within two or three hours. It’s not going to take a scientist to figure out that this man’s death was staged, though.”_

_“I just need it to buy me twenty-four hours or so.”_

_“And then we’ll consider the debt repaid?”_

_“Aye,” Davos replied. “We will.”_

Davos sat in the driver’s seat of his car, watching as the last of the SOCOs collected their evidence kits and left the scene. Uniformed officers would patrol and guard the scene for the next day or so at least and Daenerys’ body had been taken over an hour ago with a promise from Dr. Lewin that no time or expense would be spared in treating her remains with the respect a fallen officer deserved.

Fishing in his coat pocket for his phone, Davos checked the voice memos for anything recorded from the device he’d placed in DC Edd Tollett’s jacket pocket when he brushed past him earlier.

 **Eight new recordings** \- the notification popped up as he opened the app.

Davos pressed play on the first recording.

_“You have news?”_

_“They’re dead,”_

_“Both of them?”_

_“Both of them. Their bodies are on the way to the coroner’s office now.”_

_“Excellent, Detective Tollett. Consider your debt repaid.”_

Davos didn’t need to hear any more. All the proof he needed was right here.

“Got you, you treacherous bastard,” he growled out, turning the key in the ignition and pulling away from the scene.


	33. Valar Morghulis

Using a gloved hand, Jorah clipped the small grey device onto the wiring outside the factory before checking the coast was clear.

He knew the layout of the building, memorising exactly where guards were patrolling and just how many camera feeds covered the large building that Tywin Lannister used as his ‘head office’.

The guard standing at the rear door didn’t see Jorah’s knife coming until it was too late. Covering the man’s mouth with a hand to smother his cry of pain, Jorah roughly dropped the man to the floor as the blood continued to spill from his throat before dragging him out of sight.

The device he attached would interrupt the live camera feeds and he would have only a few minutes to make his way to the camera gallery inside the factory before the guard there raised the alarm.

He made it to the room with seconds to spare.

Pulling out a pistol with a silencer attached Jorah shot the man in the back of the head as blood squirted across the screens the guard had been watching only seconds earlier.

With no one watching the feeds, it would buy him enough time to plant the explosive devices in areas of the factory that would cause the greatest destruction.

After jogging back across the city borders under the cover of darkness, Jorah returned to his apartment to collect a duffel bag that, until now, had been hidden in a compartment in the ceiling of his apartment.

The many ‘errands’ the Lannisters sent him on provided Jorah with an array of weapons and while they used his knowledge as an explosives specialist for their own gain, Jorah had secreted enough C4 to create a significant detonation of his own.

The Lannisters had also provided him with a number of burner phones over the years and Jorah kept each and every one of them, hoping that one day he would be provided with the perfect opportunity to take the Lannisters down for good.

It was a thought that kept him going on the toughest of days - the days when all he wanted was to put a bullet in his own brain just to escape the nightmare his life had become. Despite all of the darkness, he clung to the tiniest bit of hope that he would find a way out of the mess he’d gotten his family into.

With an array of weapons and explosives, he needed only to rewire the mobile phones with timers attached to them and setting them to detonate when the timers reached zero.

Placing the devices near the large gas canisters at the centre of the building, Jorah set each timer for thirty-five minutes - long enough to make it to Tywin’s office and get the information from his hard drive. With any luck, the devices would detonate with both he and the Lannister patriarch still inside.

This was a one-way job and one he didn’t expect to come out the other side of. The only thing that mattered was getting the intel Daenerys’ boss needed to avenge her death and save his own family.

Walking silently through the building, Jorah checked each and every room on the way to Tywin’s office, shooting any guards on sight while also checking no innocent people would be caught up when the building exploded.

After discharging all the bullets in his pistol, Jorah crouched down and placed another clip in, loading it as quietly as he could.

Two more doors to go and he would be at Tywin’s office and with any luck, the man would have few, if any, men guarding him.

Dispatching the guard standing outside the office, Jorah let himself in and closed the door quietly behind him feeling a small twinge of satisfaction that he’d taken the crime boss by surprise for once.

“You’re looking good for a dead man,” Tywin drawled.

Jorah made his way around the room, checking for anyone hidden away in the shadows.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Jorah replied. “Just give me what I want, and I’ll let you go.”

Tywin barked out a laugh.

“Come now, Mormont,” he chuckled. “We both know you’ll put a bullet in my head the moment my back is turned. I thought you at least would have a little honour.”

Jorah gripped the pistol in his hand tighter.

“Don’t talk to me about honour!” He growled through gritted teeth. His eyes followed Tywin as the man slowly got to his feet, his hands raised in front of him in an apparent gesture of surrender.

“Your family are already dead, you know,” Tywin drawled. “As soon as I knew about you and that Targaryen whore, I sent Gregor Clegane to kill them. I let him have his fun with them first though and that young one… Clegane tells me she was most delicious.”

The urge to put a bullet in Tywin’s head was almost too much, but then the image of Daenerys lying broken in the road flooded his mind. He had to do this for her.

It would be the last thing he did. He would avenge her and complete the mission she spent her whole life working towards.

“Give me your laptop,” Jorah ordered, the pistol still shaking as he gripped it tightly. He had already failed Daenerys once.

He wouldn’t fail her again.

“Why would I want to do that?” Tywin replied, an evil smirk on his face.

A commotion began behind him and Jorah turned around to see Gregor Clegane fall to the floor staring vacantly across the room as blood pooled around his head.

Standing in the doorway was Clegane’s brother, Sandor.

“Seems like you and I want the same thing, Mormont,” the man said as he stepped over his brother’s body. “Give us what we want Lannister and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Tywin sneered at his supposed guard.

“I should have had you put down years ago like the rabid dog you are, Clegane.”

“Tell me where the Stark girls are,” Sandor Clegane growled as the man moved closer to him. “Tell me where they are or I’ll start making holes in you, starting with your knees.”

“More men are on their way,” Tywin told the two men, bluffing and trying to buy himself time. “You’ll never make it out of here alive.

Jorah glanced at his watch - twenty minutes left until the explosives would detonate and send the building sky high.

“Here,” Tywin said, pushing the laptop across the desk. “Good luck getting into it without a retinal scan and fingerprint.” 

Jorah heard a cry of ‘down’ moments before he felt himself being pushed out of the way as gunfire tore through the room. He hit the ground and saw Tywin Lannister’s unmoving body drop to the floor moments later. He could scarcely believe his eyes as they fell upon the small form of Tyrion Lannister who held a smoking gun as he looked down at his father.

“Terribly sorry that I’m late to the party, gentlemen,” the dwarf said blithely, as if he hadn’t just killed his own father in cold blood. 

Sandor Clegane looked down at the small man with something akin to admiration before shaking his head ruefully.

“Never trust a fucking dwarf, eh?”

Jorah pulled himself to his feet, realising that they had only a few minutes left to get the information they needed and leave before the building collapsed in a fiery mess around them.

He looked down at Tywin Lannister’s corpse, wondering how the hell they would crack the security on the laptop now.

“Allow me,” Clegane said, pulling out a machete and cutting the dead man’s hand from his arm before tossing it at Jorah and made to do the same with the man’s head before Jorah stopped him by placing the laptop on the ground and lifting Tywin’s head by his hair.

The computer ‘pinged’ twice and Jorah wasted no time in placing the small device Daenerys’ boss gave him into the USB port, watching on as the percentage bar began to climb closer to 100%. He took the time search for anything relating to the name ‘Stark’ and scribbled a set of coordinates on a piece of paper before handing it Clegane.

“You need to go,” Jorah told both men, not looking up from the laptop screen. 

Tyrion grinned at him as he made his way over to the safe.

“I just need to collect my inheritance and then I’ll be off.”

Jorah paid little attention to what the small man was doing, but could hear the sound of gold being removed from the safe before Tyrion slammed it shut again.

The small man was almost at the door and about to leave when Jorah called out to him.

“Why?”

Tyrion looked at him for a number of moments.

“You’re a good man, Mormont,” the dwarf said, his face and tone serious. “I hope that after all is said and done that you’ll be remembered as such.”

Jorah doubted that would be true but nodded to Tyrion as the man quickly made his way out of sight with Sandor Clegane following shortly after him.

“Clegane,” Jorah called out, watching the device tick over to 100%. “I hope you find them.”

The man looked at him. “I’ll free those little birds, or I’ll die trying.”

“Valar Morghulis,” Jorah replied.

“Valar Dohaeris.”

Pulling the device from the laptop, Jorah checked the clip in his pistol with one final target in mind:

**Jon Snow.**


	34. Here I Stand

“Nice work, Mormont,” DCI Davos Seaworth grinned as his laptop screen lit up:

**Transmission complete.**

He sent Mormont off on a suicide mission and wasn’t expecting the man to come good, but now here he sat with enough evidence to put the Lannisters and their criminal counterparts away for good.

Davos clicked on the GPS link, watching as the laptop screen narrowed down a location to where Tywin Lannister’s computer currently resided.

Davos checked the time on his watch, realising that he was just under fifteen minutes away from the location. 

He would need backup though.

Picking up his police-issued radio, Davos sent a message out to his colleagues.

“I’m patching through GPS coordinates to the Lannister den. I want all units to head there immediately. Send for an armed unit response to meet us there. We’re taking them down and this time it’s for good.”

Davos dropped the radio receiver on the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition.

“DCI Seaworth, this is control. Please respond. Over.”

 _Not now!_ He groaned internally.

“This is Seaworth. Over.”

“The North borough just called. They say five women walked into the station approximately thirty minutes ago. Over.”

“And?” Davos growled, police radio etiquette going out of the window.

“They said their name was Mormont, sir. I though you should know. Over.”

Davos was stunned. The Mormont women were alive, and it was becoming clear that the man he thought a spineless criminal just might be telling the truth after all.

“Put me through to duty sergeant at the North station. I want to speak to those women. Right now.”

* * *

Jorah Mormont checked his watch as he crept silently back out of the factory building with just over two minutes to spare. With any luck, it would be enough to get him far enough away from the building to not be impacted by the deadly blast.

A flying fist caught him on the side of his face as he hit the ground. 

Turning quickly onto his back, he looked up at his attacker.

 _So it would end like this,_ Jorah thought.

His plan was to blow the Lannister headquarters to pieces and then seek vengeance for Daenerys’ murder by killing the man who ended her life.

Perhaps Jon Snow had similar plans.

Avoiding a kick to the ribs, Jorah rolled away and scrambled to his feet with enough speed to take the other man by surprise and they soon began to trade blows as they tussled and grappled with one another.

“You killed my family!” Jon growled as his fist landed squarely on Jorah’s jaw.

He didn’t have time to debate it further as another first came flying toward Jorah, which he swayed out of the way before landing a sucker punch to the other man’s solar plexus.

“Why?” Jorah wailed as he lunged for his enemy. “Why did you kill her?”

“An eye for an eye,” Jon sneered.

The factory building exploded, sending debris far into the night sky and showering down in a wide arc.

The force of the explosion also sent both men flying several feet in the air, both of them unmoving as they landed.

It was the younger man who came back to awareness first.

Crawling on his hands and knees and with blood dripping from his left ear, Jon Snow reached for a piece of broken metal before making his way back over to where Jorah lay groaning.

He sank the sharp metal into his adversary’s side just moments before Jorah grabbed a rock and cannoned it into the side of his head.

There was a faint sound of sirens in the background, but Jorah paid them no heed as he pulled himself shakily to his knees, still grasping the bloodstained rock in his right hand.

Debris and soot continued to rain down around the two men and the sound of sirens was becoming louder by the second.

“Why?” Jorah shouted, kneeling over the younger man and ignoring the intense pain in his side, the rock held above his head as Jorah readied himself for inflicting the killer blow. 

He had to know. He had to know why Jon Snow had killed the only good thing in his life.

“She was going to kill us all,” Jon groaned. “She had to be stopped.”

“You don’t know her!” Jorah replied. “You know nothing about her.”

“I know her type,” Jon spat back. “I did my duty.”

“I loved her!” Jorah screamed at the top of his lungs.

Jon looked at him, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“Love is the death of duty.”

Overtaken with blind rage, Jorah smashed the rock into the other man’s face repeatedly, continuing to bludgeon him beyond all recognition even after the man was clearly dead.

So caught up in his anger, Jorah didn’t hear the sound of dozens of police officers surrounding the area.

“It’s over, Mormont,” DCI Davos Seaworth called out. “Drop the weapon.”

Jorah let out a shaky breath and dropped the rock, still on his knees as he turned slowly in the direction of the other man’ voice.

“My family?” Jorah asked, looking down to his right side, surprised to find his t-shirt soaked in his own blood.

“We’ve got them,” Davos replied.

Jorah let out a sob. It was some comfort to know that their bodies had been recovered and they would receive a decent funeral at least.

Jorah’s head dropped to his chest.

“I wanted to tell them how I sorry I am for what I did.”

Davos took a step closer to the other man but froze when Jorah pinned him with a steely glare.

“You can tell them yourself, Mormont,” Davos replied. 

Jorah shook his head, his eyes ringing and his vision swimming.

“No, they’re dead. Tywin had them killed.”

“I give you my word that they’re alive, Mormont.”

“Why should I believe anything you say?” Jorah countered, pulling himself slowly and unsteadily to his feet as the armed officers readied their weapons to take a shot if needed.

“Your aunt asked me to tell you something… ‘Here I stand’. She said you would know what it meant.”

Jorah screwed his eyes shut as tears ran down his cheeks. 

It was over.

It was all over.

“Just put your hands up and come quietly,” Davos said gently. “You need some medical attention,” he added, pointing to the ground at Jorah’s feet as blood continued to drip from his side.

“There’s no point,” Jorah winced. “I’m a criminal.”

“You had no choice,” Davos replied, trying to reason with him. “Be our star witness and we can take down more than just the Lannisters. We can take down all of them…but we need your help.”

Davos held his breath as he watched the other man debate his words. Jorah Mormont was surrounded by dozens of armed police officers. His only way out of this situation was to surrender and take whatever was coming to him.

“We’ll make sure you do as little time as possible. Hell, we might even be able to swing a good enough deal with the CPS that you don’t do any time at all. Just surrender and come quietly, Mormont.”

Feeling dizzy, Jorah reached into his leather jacket.

“No!” Davos shouted as dozens of gunshots screamed past him with several of them finding a target in Jorah Mormont’s body.

“Hold your fire!” Davos screamed as he saw the other man’s body fall listlessly to the ground. He ran towards it.

“Get an ambulance here, now!” Davos ordered, trying to lift the injured man’s head high enough so that he didn’t choke on his own blood. Looking down at the man’s chest, Davos could see the blood seeping from several gunshot wounds.

Davos watched as Jorah turned his head to the left, reaching out desperately for something that had fallen from his hand as the bullets tore through his body.

“Daen - “ Jorah choked, his mouth filling with blood as his eyes darted to something just out of reach.

Davos followed his line of sight, letting out a defeated sigh when he realised what Jorah was looking at.

The armed officers did what they’d been trained to do when they saw their target reach into his jacket, fearing that he would pull a gun of his own on them.

Reaching over, Davos picked up the photograph and bit back a sob of his own as he saw Daenerys Targaryen smiling back at him.

“Hold on, Mormont. Keep looking at me!” Davos said, willing the other man to hold on long enough for medical help to arrive. He paid no mind to the blood soaking into his own trousers as he held the injured man.

He was helpless to stop the inevitable from happening as Jorah Mormont’s eyes rolled up into his head, his mouth letting out one final gasping breath as another mouthful of blood flowed down his chin and his chest rose and fell for the last time.

Using his free hand, Davos closed the eyes that were staring up vacantly at him only moments before.


	35. Legacy

DCI Davos Seaworth flinched as the parade of uniformed police officers began the ceremonial gun salute for their fallen colleague.

Despite it being two weeks since the night Daenerys Targaryen’s life was taken, Davos was still struggling to come to terms with the loss.

Daenerys had set out to take the Lannisters down and had accomplished her goal. 

But at what cost?

Daenerys Targaryen had died for what she believed in and it was only the actions of the man who had fallen in love with her that saw her dream finally become a reality.

Hindsight told Davos that Daenerys was right about Jorah Mormont all along. The man had been caught up in the dealings of the Lannisters as his family were held hostage in order to ensure his compliance. Yes, the man had done terrible things, but he did them with the intention of saving the people he loved.

The turnout for Daenerys Targaryen’s funeral proved how much of an impact she had made in her time in the police force. She would forever be honoured and respected as a fine police officer who died in the line of duty.

One officer conspicuous by his absence was DC Edd Tollett – a man who was currently serving a lengthy prison sentence as an accomplice to a fellow officer’s murder. Dirty cops were treated with both disdain and disgust and already Edd had endured his fair share of harsh treatment from the colleagues he had betrayed so badly.

The man would hardly have it any easier in prison though. If there was one things convicts hated, it was a police officer and Davos was under no doubt that Edd would need to be separated from the rest of the prison’s general population and housed alongside the sex offenders and rapists, lest a group of inmates decide to enact a little vengeance for their own arrests and prison sentences.

Davos shook the thought of Edd and his fate from his mind. The man did not deserve to have another minute wasted on him. Today was to honour a fallen colleague. The day deserved to be about Daenerys Targaryen and all she achieved in a life cut tragically short.

He closed his eyes as they lowered her coffin into the ground, knowing that sight alone confirming what he tried to deny up until this point.

Daenerys was gone.

Several feet away, another coffin was slowly being lowered into the ground with only a handful of people dressed in black mourning the loss of a loved one.

As the mourners dispersed from Daenerys’ grave, Davos made his way carefully over to the five women dressed in black as they watched the coffin being lowered into the ground.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Davos said quietly, keeping his head bowed.

He didn’t want to make a scene. Not today, of all days.

Maege Mormont turned to him and gave a brisk nod of her head.

“Thank you, Detective.”

“It’s Davos, please,” he insisted. “I’m sorry if I am intruding.”

Maege looked upon her daughters - the only other mourners at Jorah’s grave.

“It still doesn’t quite seem real, you know?”

Davos nodded his head. He knew exactly what she meant.

“The remaining members of the Lannister family are all looking at lengthy jail sentences and some of their henchmen are already falling over themselves to give evidence. We even have enough to put a huge dent in the operation of both the Martells and the Baratheons. None of that would be possible without him,” he said, pointing down to the dirt-covered coffin.

Maege wiped at a tear that she’d tried to resist until now.

“I just wish that I could have told him that we forgave him…that he was still the man we knew and loved.”

“I’ve spoken to the Crown Prosecution Service and we’ve agreed to wipe all of his criminal records. I know it won’t bring him back, but he deserves to be remembered as a good man. I only hope that it helps a little.”

Maege Mormont gave him another tight nod of the head as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

“It means everything to us,” she replied. “Truly, thank you.”

Davos gave the women a stiff nod of his own before walking back to his car. Wiping Jorah Mormont’s records would not bring him or Daenerys back, but he hoped it would go some way to ease the burden of suffering for his family.

With most of the Lannister gang already in custody, it left only Tyrion Lannister to be found and hide nor hair of him had been spotted since the night of the explosion at the factory. It was likely that he’d managed to get across the Narrow Sea to evade capture and Davos was inclined to leave the man be unless he was foolish enough to pick up where his father left off or return to the mainland.

They were thoughts for another day though. Today was about remembering and honouring the people who finally brought the Lannisters to their knees. They paid the ultimate price and there would be days when Davos debated whether that cost had been too high, but he let out a huge sigh of relief at the thought of a city no longer run by fear and greed. The actions of Daenerys Targaryen and Jorah Mormont meant that the two of them had left the world a much better place than the one they’d been born into.

* * *

The images flying through Quaithe’s mind were enough to bring her to her knees as her legs buckled and visions swam before her.

The sounds and smells accompanying the visions were almost more than she could bear, and she reached out blindly for something solid to steady herself with.

The sight of a woman’s body being hurled through the air…the sound of dozens of gunshots and a man falling to the ground… all of them mixing and coalescing before her very eyes.

Snippets of sound and flashes of light replayed events in a film-like quality and it took Quaithe some time to realise what it was that she was witnessing.

Daenerys Targaryen had sacrificed her own life to save that of the man that she loved - Jorah Mormont.

There was a sudden feeling of chains being broken, of centuries of hurt and anguish being thrown aside. Dozens of visions of numerous lifetimes of these two fated lovers began moving backwards as large swathes of time were washed from existence.

The ground shook as Quaithe felt the force of the curse lifting and time beginning to rewrite itself - from that fated day when Daenerys Targaryen had bargained with Jorah Mormont’s life to save a man who had raped her and kept her hostage. In those dozens of timelines, the cruel fate of the curse no longer intervened and ripped the man she truly loved from her side.

Finally, they were free.

Pulling herself to her feet, Quaithe smiled as she recalled the conversation with a version of Daenerys Targaryen when she’d been called by Jorah Mormont’s blood. Now free of the curse, she was sure that the fates would align, and the two lovers would finally bring into the world the prince the was promised.

Daenerys Targaryen had broken the curse that kept them all hostage and perhaps she would never know just how significant those actions were. Quaithe only knew that the world was surely a better place for it.

Fate would always bring Daenerys Targaryen and Jorah Mormont together and it would be something other than a cruel and twisted curse that would separate them during their lives together. Their love would be given a fighting chance and along with it, the fate of the world would rest and Quaithe had no doubts that they would bring peace to the world once more.

Free from the burden the curse placed upon them all, Quaithe knew that, finally, nature could take its rightful course and she had every faith that it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has finally broken the curse that held them hostage for centuries, which has a huge impact on all of the stories in the Curse AU series, including More Than Words.
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled for a story being posted on Christmas Eve for the Winter Jorleesi event which starts a whole new chapter in the MTW universe...


End file.
